


Terminal Velocity

by AQuill2Thrill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: All aboard the smut-train express, Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha Maz Kanata, Alpha Poe Dameron, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben races motorcycles, Ben's also a horny teenage Alpha, Ben's kind of a jerk at first, Beta Finn (Star Wars), Beta Luke Skywalker, Beta Rose Tico, But at least he smells good, Coruscant (Star Wars), Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual HEA, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jakku, Knotting, Lovers To Enemies, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Maz's Diner, Mildly Dubious Consent, Ohhh the angst, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Or mechanics for that matter, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey thinks that's hot, Reylo - Freeform, Slight Age Difference, Slight Twilight Overtones, Slow Burn, Spanking, The author demands it, The author knows nothing about motorcycles, You're Welcome, many liberties were taken, sue me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQuill2Thrill/pseuds/AQuill2Thrill
Summary: In her final year at the University of Coruscant, Rey Kenobi navigates painful memories of her past while simultaneously fighting to get into the Coruscant Academy of Law. Broken in more ways than one, she finds herself dumbstruck when she receives a letter of dismissal from the Skywalker-Organa Scholarship Program - her one and only ticket into graduate school. Without the necessary funds, her future is completely dead in the water... right?Meanwhile, fast boi Ben Solo - better known as Kylo Ren on the MotoAmerica docket - is competing among world champion racers on dangerous tracks throughout the country. He's got all the wealth and fame he could ask for, so why does he still feel a pang of emptiness as he crosses each finish line like a man possessed?Hang on tight, folks; it's going to be one hell of a ride.ON INDEFINITE HIATUS
Relationships: Chewbacca/Maz Kanata, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 34
Kudos: 104
Collections: Reylo, Reylo - AU's (Star Wars), Star Wars/Reylo





	1. Freefalling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmberDread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberDread/gifts).



> Hello all!
> 
> This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please try to go easy on me if at all possible. However, that's not to say I don't wholeheartedly welcome your constructive criticism! Lay it on me in the comments, and if you happen to like what you see, I hope you'll leave a kudos as well <3
> 
> Enough chit chat, though - let's get on with it!

*

_Rey_

One. Point.

One. _Fucking_. Point.

Rey rereads the unassuming piece of paper gripped in her shaking hands for what has to be the hundredth time:

_Miss Kenobi,_

_We regret to inform you that your application to the Skywalker-Organa Scholarship Program has been declined. Upon review of your test results, the board is unable to offer you the $10,000 Academic Excellence Scholarship to Coruscant Academy of Law for the upcoming academic year. Please feel free to contact our office with any further questions, and we wish you the best with all your future endeavors._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Amilyn Holdo_

_Chairman of the Board_

_Skywalker-Organa Scholarship Program_

Finally, below the sickeningly polite rejection: her score.

_Your score: 79/100_

She failed the damn test by _one single point._

Bile rises to the back of her throat once more, and once more she forces it back down where it belongs. It takes quite the stressful situation to shake Rey Kenobi to her core, and her current predicament is of just that sort.

She cannot fail. She promised herself she _would not fail_.

She promised _them_ she would not fail.

Yet here she is: scholarship rejection in hand, her heart in pieces on the hardwood floor.

The sharp trill of her best friend’s ringtone suddenly breaks through the fog of her grief-riddled mind, and she woodenly wrenches her phone from the back pocket of her ragged denim shorts to answer it.

“Hey, Rose.” Her voice sounds so far away she doesn’t even recognize it herself. This doesn’t immediately register with the perpetually incandescent girl on the other end of the line, however.

“Hey girl! Did you get your letter yet?! How much did they offer you? When do we get to go out and cele—”

“I didn’t pass, Rose.” The words leave a sour taste in her mouth, and the tremor in her hands begins to eke out into the rest of her body. A steady thrumming of _this can’t be happening this can’t be happening this can’t be happening_ pounds ruthlessly against her skull, and the ensuing _click_ of comprehension in Rose’s mind is nearly audible.

“Rey… Oh my God, I’m so sorry…” Rose mumbles after a beat, her former excitement extinguished like a flame in a cold wind. Rey doesn’t know how to respond, allowing the heavy silence to speak for her instead. This gives Rose all the opportunity she needs to swoop in and save the day (as usual).

“Give me half an hour.” The determination in her voice relieves some of the tension in Rey’s shoulders almost instantly. “When we hang up, I want you to go take a hot shower, put on your comfiest PJs, and start surfing Netflix for the dorkiest rom-com or ten you can find. Can you do that for me please, Rey?”

Knowing better than to attempt defiance of Rose’s Mom Voice, Rey manages a weak, “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to hang up now, and you’re going to do all those things before I get there, or so help me I will scrub you and dress you myself if I have to!” she warns, and just like that, Rey regains at least fifty percent of the feeling in her extremities. She smiles despite herself.

With a cathartic sigh that ends with a strangled sort-of chuckle, Rey mumbles her assent and ends the call. Not for the first time—and certainly not for the last—she struggles to remember how she ever survived without Rose to keep her on her feet.

Forcing herself to deposit the offensive letter on her kitchen counter, Rey turns to head for the bathroom. For possibly the first time since she toured the place, she’s overtly thankful her over-priced apartment is so tiny. Her head spins slightly as the room seems to tilt, but she’s able to grab the door frame separating her kitchen from the narrow hallway just in the nick of time.

 _Come on, Kenobi,_ goads her subconscious. _Get it the_ fuck _together. This isn’t the first time you’ve dealt with heartbreak…._

Suddenly, wholly unwelcome images of _him_ flood the forefront of her mind, and her knees fall weak for an entirely different reason.

 _Dark eyes. Dark, shoulder-length hair. The enticing scent of_ Alpha _that follows him like a storm cloud of electric ambrosia everywhere he goes. Shoulders the width of the damned_ door jamb _she’s clinging to for dear life…._

_Fuck... Get it together, Rey!_

Rey shakes her head violently in an (admittedly half-hearted) attempt to erase the slick-inducing thoughts from her mind, and she stumbles her way into her little bathroom like a newborn foal.

In the aftermath of her scholarship rejection, _he_ is the absolute _last_ thing she needs on her mind. After all, he’d made his choice and she’d made hers, and that was all there was to say about that… right?

Without warning, the gut-wrenching memory of his final words to her echo in her heart mockingly:

_“We were just freefalling, baby. Don’t turn it into something it never was.”_

Hands trembling anew, Rey jerks open the door of her medicine cabinet and pops one of her emergency suppressants in hopes of settling her thoughts. Her status as an Omega has never afforded her many advantages in life, least of all in the hormonal department.

Not for the first time, she feels a guilty bubble of resentment creep up the back of her throat as she thinks of Rose’s Beta designation. Though they’ve discussed the ins and outs of their statuses at length, there still exists an unbridgeable gap in the girls’ comprehension of one another—like trying to explain air-breathing to a fish. Rose can’t grasp the idea of _scents_ or _heats_ or _ruts_ , whereas Rey can’t imagine life _without_ them, much as she may want to.

Replacing the yellow bottle, she risks a glance in the mirror to assess the severity of her dejected state.

Surprisingly enough, she finds herself almost normal looking. There’s the slightest hint of darkness under her eyes and her cheeks seem a bit sallow, but all things considered, she doesn’t look like a girl whose dreams were just swept out from under her and left shattered like some priceless vase on the floor.

Huh. Just goes to show how well she’s learned to hide any outward appearance of her inner turmoil.

How could she have failed so _miserably?_ She’d studied for that application exam for _months_ prior, memorizing the material forwards and backwards just for good measure. Her mind drifts then to her classmate, Kaydel, and she wonders if _she_ passed the exam. Glancing at her phone once more, she notices a Snapchat notification from the very person. With a quick tap, a video pops open of the girl all but vibrating with excitement, holding her letter of acceptance towards the camera as a dark-haired girl beside her pops a bottle of champagne.

A wave of nausea soars up Rey’s throat, and it’s all she can do to drop her phone and gather her too-long hair before she’s dry heaving into the sink. A couple minutes pass like this—Rey taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth as she memorizes the hairline scratches in the outdated sink basin—until she’s finally able to turn _slowly_ to start the shower.

“ _Hurry up, Rose,_ ” she grumbles to the empty room. “Hurry up and help me _forget_.”

***

Hours later, she and Rose are two bottles of wine and half a tub of Extreme Moose Tracks into _Sixteen Candles_ , both of them sobbing manically as the credits begin to roll. It wasn’t Rey’s first choice of the movies they’d agreed upon, and even in her drunken stupor she easily remembers why.

“Why the _h-hell_ did you make me watch this, R-Rose? You know it only re-reminds me of how s-stupid I was in hi-high school! _Ughhh,_ I was s-such an _idiot!”_ Rey cries, her hand latching onto Rose’s forearm to shake it violently. Rose sniffles, using her free hand to scrub at the sadness on her face before she answers with a knowing (albeit wobbly) grin.

“You were _not!_ Having a crush on the hottest Alpha in town was _not_ a crime! Hell, at least you were brave enough to act on it! I guarantee you at least eighty percent of the girls in that town had a crush on him—designation be damned!” she declares, shoving Rey’s hand from her arm as a fit of giggling overtakes her. Rey feels her face heat at least ten degrees at the truthful claim, and her mind wanders back to the last time her world fell to pieces around her….

***

That spring had been among the hottest on record in Rey’s then-hometown of Jakku, Arizona, although she wouldn’t have known it at the time. She’d only lived there for four months when suddenly her high school graduation was upon her and her eighteenth birthday less than a week after that. Her foster home at that time consisted of little more than a ramshackle trailer situated amongst the wreckage of a junkyard—all of it owned by one of the crudest men she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting: Unkar Plutt.

Rey managed to stay out of his way for the most part, and that seemed to suit him just fine. She thanked her lucky stars each night that he wasn’t so much _abusive_ as he was simply _neglectful_. An aggrieved veteran of the foster care system, Rey had lived in abusive situations before, and she’d take the cold-heartedness of neglect over that any day.

However, this also meant she had to fend for herself if she wanted food, clothing, or a decent place to sleep. Oftentimes, this translated to venturing into town to rummage through the scraps discarded by the sole restaurant in the area: _Maz’s_. Owned by a woman of the same name, Rey’s precarious living arrangements fell under her scrutiny one fateful December night when her scavenging was discovered.

“Girl!” A pause, a foot stomping the cold pavement. “Get out of my trash and get yourself inside. I work hard to keep the stray animals fed, and I can’t have you rooting around in my garbage taking all the scraps for yourself!”

Curiosity piqued at the odd demand, Rey jerked up instantly from her crouch down in the dumpster. She glanced around haphazardly for the owner of the powerful voice only to be greeted with a tiny old woman wearing a wry grin and Coke-bottle glasses.

“You heard me, girl. _Come on out,”_ she insisted, the final Alpha command irrefutable. Despite her better judgement, the Omega in Rey felt almost immediately at ease as she did as she was told.

Stupid biology.

Silently, Rey hopped over and off of the edge of her grungy hiding place, landing mere feet in front of her miniature accuser. Experience had taught her to just keep quiet and do as her opponent asked, but this person didn’t mean her any harm… did she? As if on cue, Rey’s stomach growled violently, and the woman in question gave her an inquisitive once-over.

“Follow me.” It wasn’t a request, and Rey hated herself for how quickly she complied.

Upon entering through a rusted metal door just a few steps down the alleyway, Rey’s senses were greeted with an array of mouth-watering aromas she couldn’t begin to place. She realized then that they were in a kitchen. Appliances were set up all around on various stainless-steel surfaces. A sink in the far corner was piled high with dirty dishes, and a tall, slender woman in a stark white apron and hairnet stood with her back to them at the stove.

The room seemed like it was too small for its intended purpose, but it appeared they made it work all the same. The grandmotherly Alpha Rey would come to know and love as Maz spoke again as Rey followed numbly behind her in a hunger-induced stupor.

“Bazine! Fix our girl here a bowl of that stew, would you, dear? We’ll be back in just a minute.” Shuffling onward from the kitchen, she motioned for Rey to continue along with her.

“Sure thing, Maz,” the other woman—Bazine—replied, absently stirring a large kettle on the stove. She glanced over her shoulder to offer Rey a small smile before she returned to her task.

Suddenly, Rey found herself being tugged along an adjoining hallway until Maz stopped her in front of a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a 1950s edition of a _Better Homes & Gardens_ magazine. Rey couldn’t care less, however, and Maz didn’t have to tell her twice before she rushed to the sink and began dousing her face and arms in suds and warm water.

“That’s it, girl. Get cleaned up as best you can and come back down the hall to the kitchen. Bazine will set you up with a nice bowl of stew or three, and you’ll sleep in the guest quarters tonight— _I_ _insist!”_ Maz explained, holding up a wrinkled hand when Rey attempted to protest her kindness. Maz’s large eyes watched her thoughtfully for a beat before she then asked, “What is your name, girl?”

Rey pondered whether she should give a fake name at first. It wouldn’t take much to figure out who she lived with given that information—Jakku being such a small town and all. Maz might try to send her back to her foster home instead of inconveniencing herself, or worse—she might call Plutt and relay Rey’s crimes along to him. However, upon meeting Maz’s gaze and acknowledging it for what it was— _compassion_ —Rey felt the walls of her independent resolve begin to crumble.

This was a person she could trust.

“Rey. My name is Rey,” she all but whispered, reaching to turn off the sink and dry herself on a towel Maz proffered her. The woman’s answering smile was as gentle as any Rey had ever received.

“All right, Rey. Finish freshening up, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.” With that, Maz turned on her heel and continued down the hallway to a set of stairs that lead to the floor above.

Rey turned back to the mirror then, noting the disheveled state of her signature triple-bun low-hawk (as she often liked to think of it). She pulled the ties loose from each bun and combed her fingers through her matted mop of hair until all the major tangles were gone. After taking a moment to note the impossible softness of her light brown waves, Rey worked quickly to rearrange her hair into back into her favorite triple-bun style.

 _Good enough for a solo supper_ , she thought errantly, her mind still on alert for Plutt.

Oh, if only she could’ve known in that moment the irony of that thought.

Buns finally situated to her satisfaction, Rey practically skipped back to the kitchen with the thought of food on her mind—only to be stopped dead in her tracks by a scent even more delicious than the stew.

The first time she saw Ben Solo, he was sitting at one of the tables in Maz’s kitchen with his back to her. An older man with gray hair and kind eyes sat to his right, talking animatedly with Bazine over a bowl of stew when suddenly, he stopped, turning slightly to greet Rey with a charming, lopsided grin.

“Hey, kid! Come on in here and grab a bowl of this stew before it gets up and walks away,” he deadpanned, Bazine smacking him on the arm playfully. Rey hardly noticed their exchange, however, as the younger man took that moment to lob her a venomous glare over his shoulder.

Rey’s heart ceased all function.

 _Dark eyes that saw straight through her to the bone. Dark, shoulder-length hair that her fingers ached to touch. The enticing scent of_ Alpha _emanating from him like a storm cloud of electric ambrosia, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Shoulders the width of the damned_ door jamb _in which she stood, frozen like a red-handed criminal._

No.

Frozen like prey in the eye of a predator.

“Hello? Earth to kiddo?” the man called, waving his hand to get her attention. “Get over here and eat before you fly away on the next stiff breeze.” He smiled at his own joke, eyes crinkling at the edges as he chewed, blissfully ignorant of his companion’s behavior.

Just then, Bazine took notice and nudged him, directing a wary nod at the object of Rey’s focus. Something like resigned frustration washed over the older man’s formerly lighthearted countenance once he realized what was happening, and his grin transformed into a scowl.

“Hey, Ben!” he griped. “Son, what’s the matter with you? Cut the attitude and eat your damn food,” the father scolded, smacking the son’s shoulder just enough to get his attention. Ben watched her thoughtfully for another moment before he shook his head, the icy spell he’d cast over her broken like a fever on her brain. Freed from their impromptu staring contest, Rey was finally able to draw a shaky breath of blessed air, spiked as it was with his scent.

In the moment before he looked away, however, Rey didn’t miss the lightening of his irises—the darkness of his pupils receding to reveal a color more akin to warm bourbon than molasses. Fitting, she thought, considering the notes of his scent: smoky, yet clean somehow; a welcome thickness like a woolen blanket in winter. The scent of petrichor on a late summer evening. Apple cider and a roaring fire.

Rey wanted to _drown_ in it.

Without warning, Ben jerked himself away from the table so harshly his chair fell back on the floor. In three large strides, he marched straight out the metal door Rey and Maz had entered through only a few minutes earlier.

Rey still couldn’t move.

“What the _hell_ was that?!” the older man asked, sincerely dumbfounded. After looking between Rey and Bazine a few times to no avail, he heaved himself from the table at a much slower and gentler pace than his son. Whether this was due to age or for the sake of Rey’s sanity, though, she couldn’t be sure.

“Never you mind him, Rey,” Maz’s voice suddenly commented from beside her, causing her to jump. “That boy’s been trouble since the day he was born.” Louder, she then addressed the others in the room. “Han Solo! I should’ve known you and that boy of yours would stop by after you closed up shop for the night. This little mouse here is Rey, and she’s my guest this evening. Rey, this is Han Solo, owner and proprietor of Rebel Racing Motorsports.”

“Well hello, Rey. It’s nice to meet you,” Han grinned, nodding at her as he hooked a thumb behind him. “The feral moose that just stomped out the back door’s my son, Ben. Don’t worry—he’ll be fine. Probably just needed some fresh air away from all the—” he swirled his hand in the air— "er, something.” Despite his best efforts, his face grew a bit pinched by the end of his explanation. It was then that Rey noticed the glands behind each of her ears were all-out _throbbing_ —not to mention _that_ gland at the base of her neck. Ben’s behavior made perfect sense then.

_He’d scented her, too._

“Come on now, Rey. Let’s get this food in your belly and then it’s off to bed with you!” Maz insisted, and without any further attempts at coherent thought, Rey did as she was told once more.

***

Coming-to as if she’d been clocked by a pro-boxer, Rey squints around the dull ache behind her eyes at the memories swirling around her brain in a dizzying whirlpool of emotion. It’s been _years_ since she’s dreamed of her early days with Maz, so it’s no surprise when she feels a few hot tears escape her normally water-tight veneer.

 _Those were the good old days,_ she thinks to herself, _and I didn’t even realize it at the time._

Somewhere nearby, Rey hears a groan and joints popping as Rose joins her in the world of the living, and she quickly swipes away any trace of waterworks before her friend can take notice.

“So, what’s for breakfast?” croaks Rose, and without further ado, Rey heaves herself up from her pallet on the floor and studiously ignores the aching in her chest.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

But she does not think of _him_.

She does _not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just some angst in this chapter but I PROMISE THE SMUT ON THE WAY. Please keep in mind that this fic is a SLOW BURN, and like anything good, it'll be worth the wait.
> 
> Please don't kill me.
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter: @aquill2thrill


	2. Accelerate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than chapter one, but now we're seeing Ben's POV! Also a bit more angsty so feel free to yell at me in the comments, lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: discussions of non-con (though nothing happens)
> 
> On with the show!

*

_Ben_

“Hey, Ren—pass me that spanner, will you?” Taj asks, his laser-focus trained on some component of the superbike engine in front of him. Ben’s just thankful the smarmy ginger’s reptilian gaze isn’t directed at _him_ for once, so he quickly grabs the requested tool from a nearby toolbox and hands it over in silence.

Sometimes it still feels like it was only yesterday when he’d accepted that racing contract with First Order Racing Club. It had been a dream come true; he’d worked his ass off for _years_ on the local circuits before someone finally realized his raw talent and took advantage of it. As it turned out, Ivan Snoke was just such a man, and while he’s far from kind in his training, Ben’s still thankful every day that his crew chief overlooks his lineage and allows him to blaze his own path.

He’s _so_ much more than just the son of moto-racing legend Han Solo. Now, as Kylo Ren, he gets to prove it every time he’s out on the track.

“How much longer before you’re finished with that damned thing?” Phasma prods, her willowy figure flouncing over from her workspace to rest a lazy arm across Taj’s shoulder. While he doesn’t break his concentration on whatever he’s working on, he offers her a genuine smile as he torques the wrench in his hand. They’ve been mated for over a year (officially), but their easy affection for one another is as nauseating as ever.

At least, that’s what Ben tells himself.

From his perch at one of the garage’s many workbenches, Ben studiously ignores them, devoting all his attention to scrubbing the grungy part in his hand.

So what if they’re happy together— _who cares?_ Certainly not Ben; that ship sailed for him the moment he opened his stupid mouth and watched the color drain from those heartbreaking hazel eyes….

 _Such a tiny little thing... Goofy buns in her hair, rags for clothes, and her_ scent. God, _her scent… lavender and honey and spring grass and_ home. _Gold-flecked irises full of_ fear— _fear of_ him….

With a sharp _clang,_ the part in Ben’s hand clatters loudly onto the table in front of him. He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose—desperately trying to force the memory from his mind. Behind him, Taj scoffs, all but ignorant of the torment plaguing his teammate’s mind.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” His tone isn’t malicious, but it’s still unsettling. It’s all the excuse Ben needs to flee the garage like an elephant from a mouse.

_Huh. Kind of fitting._

_Cut the shit, Solo,_ his subconscious demands. _You made your bed and now you’ve gotta lie in it._

 _Yeah, without_ her _._

_Fuck…!_

“I’ll be back later,” he growls at the stunned couple behind him, yanking his worn jean jacket from a peg on the wall as he leaps away from the workbench. “Don’t wait up.”

As his retreating form exits the garage in the direction of the employee parking area, Phasma and Taj share a knowing _look_ that speaks volumes.

“Poor bastard.”

***

After an aimless hour wandering through town astride the _Falcon,_ Ben rolls up to one of the seedier bars in the area to grab a drink.

 _Or ten,_ he thinks.

Propping his helmet on the bike’s worn saddle, Ben combs a greasy hand through his sweaty hair and wastes no time loping into the decrepit brick building like a man on a mission.

He pays little mind to the patrons around him as he flops down into an empty seat, motioning to the bartender with one hand and massaging his eyes with the other. The man takes his order solemnly, almost as if he can sense the existential crisis roiling beneath Ben’s skin.

 _Well_ duh, that omnipresent voice chimes in. _You’re probably polluting the whole damn building with the stench of cock-blocked Alpha, you douche._

For the nth time in his life, Ben feels helplessly defeated.

It’s at that moment a familiar scent hits him—hits him _hard,_ and he squints across the bar to find a familiar grizzled face smirking back.

“ _Uncle Chewie?_ What are you doing here?” Ben asks, smiling like a damn fool. The hulking mountain of a man approaches and sits gracelessly on the stool beside him, his answering grin a mile wide. For as long as Ben can remember, his dad’s best friend has always been enormous. Even once Ben had grown tall himself, he still felt small in his uncle’s presence.

The man in question is still sporting his signature chest-length beard, and his long, graying brown hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. A bicep as big around as Ben’s head sports all sorts of tattoos—some he remembers and some he’s never seen before—and his sleeveless shirt is covered in grease stains and errant pinholes. Sizing Ben up just as openly, Chewie seems to suppress a wistful smile before he speaks.

“Oh, you know, just meandering around as usual,” he growls, happiness evident as he nudges Ben with a well-muscled arm. “How about yourself, kid? Still racing them damn bikes?” Ben smirks.

“Not just racing, Uncle Chewie— _winning_ ,” he retorts, thanking the bartender for the bottle he parks in front of him. After a swig, he continues. “Still in the same garage right up the road, too. You ought to stop by and hang out sometime. We can shoot the shit, mod some bikes—hell, I’ll even let you look at all my trophies,” Ben deadpans, schooling his expression into mock seriousness. Chewie shakes his head and smiles despite himself when Ben clasps a hand on his shoulder in jest.

“God Almighty… You’re just like him, kid,” Chewie chuckles, tossing back the remainder of his beer. Ben snorts and follows suit, motioning for the bartender to bring him another round. Beside him, Chewie pushes against the counter to pop his back as he surreptitiously winks at a pretty Beta woman in the corner. Ben practically hears his own eyes rolling.

“I guess so... Not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, though,” he teases, offering up a wistful smile. Chewie knows _exactly_ what he means, though, and then it’s his turn to clap Ben on the shoulder with an affectionate look of his own.

“Boy, I’ll leave that open to interpretation.”

***

A few beers later and as many stories swapped, Ben bids his uncle goodnight once he promises he’ll stop by the garage before he leaves town. He chugs an entire glass of water to make sure he’s sobered up enough to ride, and without further ado, he climbs astride the _Falcon_ and heads for home.

The cool night air is a welcome relief after the stuffiness of the old bar, and Ben gulps a greedy lungful. Thinking back on all he and his uncle discussed, the first thing his traitorous mind recalls is the moment Chewie’d brought _her_ up….

“She’s gonna be graduating here in another year, you know?” he’d muttered, a cautious glint in his eye. “Maz said she’s been accepted into the Academy of Law, but she’s still waiting to hear back on her big scholarship. Still seems like just yesterday she came skipping into the shop to get under my feet… Lord, the debates she and your old man would get into—”

“I’d rather not talk about it, Chewie. Please.” It was less of a request and more of a dismissal, but Chewie’d trudged on, unaffected.

“So that’s it then? Gonna keep pretending like you don’t care? Sure as hell can’t deny that God-awful smell. You’ve been reeking like a wet dog since you walked through that door.” Calloused fingers twisted his half-empty beer bottle this way and that against the bar top, watching Ben closely as if expecting him to answer.

“What was it your old man used to say? ‘Racing ain’t always about how quick you accelerate—‘”

“’It’s usually about how well you take the curves,’” Ben muttered, squinting at the memory of his dad’s voice in his head. Chewie continued.

“You got it, kid. No matter how fast you go, that girl’s always gonna be one hell of a curve on your track—whether you can get it through your thick skull or not. Just thought you’d like to know she’s doing well for herself.” With a well-timed swig from his bottle, he’d left the ball in Ben’s court. Rather than take the bait, however, Ben had quickly changed the subject.

“You heard from Uncle Lando lately?”

Chewie’s easy smile returned as he called for the bartender and bit back a snort.

“Oh, he’s still around, trust me. You won’t believe the shitshow he got himself _into_ and _out of_ just last week….”

Ben scoffs to the wind, blaming it for the stinging in his eyes. As if he wouldn’t know _exactly_ how well she was doing. What’s the point of wealth or fame if he doesn’t utilize them to keep tabs on his past? He’s hired private investigators on more than one occasion to check in on her, just to make sure she’s doing okay. Not to mention social media makes it even easier to rifle through her daily life any time he wants….

A rueful smile tugs at his lips as he recalls a particularly charming photo she’d posted the week prior: Rey, perched on a park bench, her hands full of birdseed as whole battalions of pigeons fluttered around her. Her face had been _glowing_ with amusement; her perfect nose all scrunched up and the same sweet freckles like stardust adorned her cheeks. If he thinks about it hard enough, Ben’s sure he can still hear her enchanting little giggle as he pinches her ribs until she escapes and runs away….

As he approaches the First Order garage, Ben slows the _Falcon_ to a gentle stop. Wheeling the classic bike inside, he then puts far more effort than necessary into cleaning up the workspace—anything to get the memories of her off his mind. His motions are rendered useless, however, when he notices the racing schedule taped to a wall by the interior door.

_October 22 nd: Coruscant Motorsports Classic_

Shit.

_ShitFuckShitFuckShit!_

Head in his hands, he allows his hindbrain to indulge in one final memory before he cuts himself off for good.

***

Maz’s diner was like a second home to him. When not found in his dad’s workshop or flying down the road on his latest two-wheeled monstrosity, Ben was most certainly in Maz’s kitchen gobbling up anything she’d feed him.

Therefore, it was far from unusual for he and his dad to be propped up around a table in her kitchen _that_ night—the night his world had completely changed.

No, Ben wouldn’t have missed out on Bazine’s stew for all the tea in China, and he eagerly dug in once a bowl was plopped down in front of him.

“Do you ever feed this boy, Han?” Bazine teased, offering him a good-natured smile. Han scoffed and began digging into his own bowl, unabashed humor in his eyes.

“You try keeping a full-grown gorilla fed for a week and then we’ll talk,” he jabbed, winking at Ben in jest. The latter had simply rolled his eyes and kept chewing. He couldn’t help being a teenaged Alpha male with a bottomless appetite. It came with the territory.

At that moment, a scent so intoxicating wafted into the room that Ben nearly choked on his mouthful of food.

_Lavender. Honey. Spring grass._

Home.

Despite himself, his Alpha instincts took over. His hackles stood on end, and he felt a feral snarl building in his gut. He directed an all-out furious glare over his shoulder—how _dare_ someone who smelled _so_ _good_ prance around _without suppressants?!_ —only to be met with a waif of an Omega girl as big as his left arm.

 _Such a tiny little thing,_ he thought wolfishly, saliva pooling in his mouth as his rage transformed into unfettered lust. _Bet she couldn’t even take my knot. She’d look so_ beautiful _begging for it though, begging for me to bite her—_ claim _her—_

Shaking his head violently, Ben felt instantly mortified by the trajectory of his thoughts. _What the_ fuck _was that?!_ he gaped as he regained control of his hindbrain, nausea souring his stomach. Without pausing to think (or even _breathe_ for that matter), he threw himself away from the table and fled through the backdoor like a common criminal….

Later that same night, Ben had stood outside _Maz’s_ glaring daggers at one of the unassuming second story windows—the one he knew dared stand between him and _his_ Omega, his perfect girl. In the rational part of his brain, he felt like some sort of rabid wraith, lurking in the shadows as he fought against his baser instincts.

And _oh,_ how the Alpha in him wanted to prove just how _entirely_ she was at his mercy.

It was laughable, really, when he considered it. One well-planned jump, and he would grab the windowsill and haul himself inside in a single fluid motion. He was _built_ for such an assault. Did they honestly believe a kriffing _window_ could hold him off? He could take her to the knot and be on his merry way before anyone even realized he’d been there…

No.

No, he wasn’t that kind of Alpha…

Once wouldn’t be enough.

He’d _never_ have enough.

As the full moon climbed higher in the late December sky, Ben stood like some demented sentinel, doing battle with the voice in his hindbrain screaming _MineTakeMineTakeMine._

***

Dragging himself back to the present, the first thing Ben notices is a throbbing ache in his knuckles. His eyes fly open, and he realizes he’s got a death-grip on the workbench in front of him, his nails digging so hard into the worn plywood countertop he thinks they might actually be bleeding.

 _Jesus Christ,_ his subconscious mutters. _What the actual_ fuck _is wrong with me?_

Ben rubs his eyes and tries to ignore the sudden constrictive nature of his long-ruined work jeans, but it’s no use. His blood is boiling with Alpha hormones, and the only relief he’ll find tonight will be a pathetic substitute for the one his body craves.

 _You’re one fucked up son of a bitch, Solo,_ his subconscious helpfully supplies. _It’s a damn good thing she got the hell out of dodge before you sunk your teeth in her in more ways than one._

For perhaps the first time in Ben Solo’s life, his subconscious and hindbrain agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO... I think I might've enjoyed writing Ben's POV more than Rey's oddly enough. Chapter one Rey was wallowing in a bit too much self-pity for my taste (though I get it, she had a pretty good reason). On the other hand, Ben gives me the impression that he's almost battling with a split personality (or at least he used to in his teenage years). Wonder what that could've possibly done to their relationship... O.o
> 
> If you like what you see, leave a kudos and a comment!
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter: @aquill2thrill


	3. Drag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I hear the train a-comin'  
> She's a-rollin' round the bend..."
> 
> Mr. Cash can hear the smut-train express on the way; can you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the time jump. Our story initially began around the end of September, so at this point, we're nearing the end of October.
> 
> How convenient, given the date of that big Coruscant race Ben was freaking out about last chapter... O.o
> 
> 1 kudos = 1 hug for Ben Solo
> 
> 1 comment = 1 kiss for Kylo Ren
> 
> That's right. I'm not above extortion.
> 
> Enjoyyyyyy

*

_Rey_

**One month later.**

“Rose, I don’t care if there’s free alcohol—I’m not going,” Rey insists for the umpteenth time. She loves Rose to pieces, but her fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants approach to life is often just _exhausting_. Her latest argument is a prime example among many, but Rey patiently listens to the spitfire girl on the other end of the line plead her case anyway.

“REY! It’s fucking _Halloween!_ Don’t you ever want to get out of your hermit hole and live a little? And you can’t blame it on mid-terms this time—those aren’t for three more weeks! Just get out this once. Please? _Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—"_

“All right, _all right—o-kay!”_ Rey hisses, a sudden outburst which earns her several curious looks in the grocery store aisle. She hides her face in her free hand and scurries along toward the cereal section, pointedly ignoring the heat gathering in her cheeks.

“YAY!” Rose squeals, and Rey can almost feel her bouncing through the phone. Much to her chagrin, a hesitant smile worms its way onto her face, and it’s then she remembers why she called Rose in the first place.

“Hey, by the way—Finn said he and Poe should be here by about 7:00 tomorrow, and they’ll have to leave by 3:00 Saturday to get to Mrs. Dameron’s retirement party on time. You’re still planning to come over and hang out, right?” Rey’s small smile blooms into a full-blown grin as she thinks of all her friends coming together again. The last time they’d all hung out was for her birthday back in May, so this weekend is well overdue.

As if she weren’t already fired up enough, Rose’s excitement shifts into Mach 4.

 _“Duh!_ I wouldn’t miss it for the world, babe! I just grabbed our favorite Moscato—oh, _and_ I’ve already packed the expansion set I picked up for _Cards Against Humanity_. _Plus,_ I scoped out Netflix earlier and it turns out the slumber party gods are smiling on us— _both_ _Magic Mike_ movies are online! Do you think I should grab some extra liquor? I think I’ve got like half a bottle of vanilla vodka in the cabinet, but—"  
_“Rose!_ Jesus, I think we’re covered on the entertainment, dear,” Rey laughs, steering her cart to the nearest checkout counter. “Good thing they’re staying till Sunday; I don’t think we’d ever be able to fit all that in in one night.”

“Rey… Rey, Rey, _Rey_. It’s like you don’t even _know_ me. This only happens once in a blue moon, and you’d better believe I’m taking full advantage of the situation. Don’t you worry though, it’s gonna be _great!”_ she insists, her fist pump all but audible. Rey can hardly help it when a giggle sneaks past her lips.

“What would I do without you, Rose?” The teenaged cashier offers up a polite smile as she repeats the total. Rey can hear Rose’s smile when she responds.

“You’d turn into a crazy cat lady,” she quips, but before Rey can protest, the line goes dead.

 _That bitch always gets the last word,_ Rey smirks, eyeing her phone like a naughty child. Before the befuddled attendant can comment (or question her sanity any further), Rey hands over the piece of plastic that will procure her a week’s worth of food on borrowed time.

Time she senses is quickly running out.

***

Early the following morning, Rey is startled awake by a furious pounding at her front door. She stumbles out of bed in a daze, grabbing her trusty baseball bat before she shuffles out into her apartment with one eye open. Omegas are often discouraged from living alone, especially females, but Rey refuses to let her designation define her any more than it absolutely has to. Once she reaches the living room, she flips the light switch, but curiously, it doesn’t respond.

_Great. Damn lightbulb._

The pounding resumes as she fumbles with the switch on her desk lamp nearby, but it flat out ignores her too.

_What the hell…?_

“REYYY! WAKE UP! WE’VE GOT A PARTY TO PLAN!” shouts a familiar voice from the hall, and Rey groans as she unbolts the lock and wrenches the door open.

“ _Rose!_ When do you even sleep?!” she whines, moving over just in time as Rose piles inside. Her arms are loaded with bags of groceries, a duffle, and her oversized purse, and she dumps all of it on Rey’s kitchen table with a dramatic groan.

“What are you talking about? It’s, like, _lunchtime_ , Rey.” Oblivious to her friend’s confusion, Rose flips the nearest light switch and frowns at the lack of response. “Why are all the lights out? Did you run out of light bulbs or something…? And why don’t you have the heat on? It’s freezing in here!” She rubs her arms furiously, resorting to friction for warmth. An abrupt shiver runs through Rey’s body, and she realizes her thin cotton shirt and fleece sleep shorts are glaringly inadequate.

“Um, I guess my power’s out…?” she half-asks, wandering over to the window. She’s greeted with sunshine and a bright blue sky, so she reasons the outage must not be weather related. Perhaps she should call the manager? She starts for her bedroom to grab her phone just as Rose pipes up from the kitchen.

“Uh, Rey… I think I know why your power’s out…” she mumbles, offering her a letter from the stack of unopened mail on the counter. She sucks in a sharp breath when she sees the stamp across the front:

[FINAL NOTICE]

_Shit!_

Of course. Of _fucking_ course she’d overlook paying her utility bill.

She’s been so preoccupied with that kriffing scholarship fiasco that _paying her damn bills_ completely slipped her mind.

“Oh my God…” she mumbles into her hands as Rose wraps her in a gentle hug. “How on _earth_ did I forget to pay that?!"

“Rey, don’t sweat it. Go get dressed, and we’ll head to the main office downtown to get everything taken care of, okay? It’s not the end of the world, sis!” Rose reasons, ending Rey’s downward spiral before it can truly begin. Rey takes a deep, steadying breath before squeezing her friend tight.

“Thank you,” she breathes into Rose’s hair, comforted by the familiar scent of her green apple shampoo. Few manufactured scents appeal to Rey at all, but this one is the exception.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. You’d do the same for me!” Rose concedes with a small smile. “But just know that I’ll most definitely be holding out for a favor after this!” Rey returns her wry grin with one of her own.

“Oh, save it, Tico,” she grumbles playfully, jabbing Rose in the ribs before heading back to her room. Rose barks a laugh.

“I literally just said I’d be holding out for the right moment to strike, so you’d better believe I’ll be taking full advantage of this opportunity!”

Rather than give in to her friend’s appetite for bickering, Rey shakes her head and starts rifling through her closet.

***

An hour later (and minus fifty dollars _extra_ for the damn late fee), Rey and Rose return to the apartment and busy themselves preparing for Finn and Poe’s arrival. Rey’s grateful for the distraction—anything to keep from thinking about the fact that she’s now down to the last five bucks in her bank account. She doesn’t mention this to Rose (she’d likely find a way to _force_ some money on her), and she refuses to inconvenience her any more than she already has.

So instead, she wholly ignores the problem, opting to focus on tossing her extra blankets into the wash to freshen them up while Rose impatiently sorts through her mess of booze, food, and boardgames. Rey is a seasoned veteran when it comes to banishing her worries to the back of her mind, so she hardly bats an eye as she tidies up the living room like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

She’s determined to enjoy this time with her friends, and she’ll be damned if she lets anything spoil the night.

To her great relief, Poe and Finn arrive an hour early. Rose immediately ignites, animatedly recounting the past five months of her life as if she hasn’t spoken to them almost every day since. If the boys are annoyed by it, it doesn’t show, and they all eagerly join in a group hug as soon as the guys can drop their bags.

 _“God,_ it’s been too long,” Finn remarks when they release each other, his eyes glowing with happiness. Rey’s smile is incandescent.

“You can say that again,” she agrees, sharing another hug between the two of them. Finn was her very first friend when she started high school in Jakku, and they’ve been basically inseparable ever since. She’d been with him the night he’d finally approached Poe, and he’d waited on bated breath as she’d recounted her bizarre experience with _him_ that very same night…

_Nope, not thinking about this right now!_

_…but when?_

Shit.

“—missed the worst of the traffic going that way. I had no idea they’d even finished construction on that part of the interstate!” Poe says, and Rey realizes he’s been talking to her for the entirety of her little reverie. With an apologetic smile, she formulates a half-assed reply just as Rose calls them all to order.

“Okay people—we’ve got enough booze, games, and junk food to survive for the next ten days, so let’s get this damn party started!”

Not for the first time, Rey thinks Rose would’ve made a fine Alpha.

***

As predicted, the party proves to be just what Rey needed to lift her spirits and keep her mind busy. She and the boys horselaugh at Rose’s encore performance of her favorite routine from _Magic Mike,_ and they giggle and snicker through a few rounds of _Cards_ like a bunch of middle schoolers. Rey’s indulging in her third piece of cold pizza straight from the fridge when she senses the commotion in the living room beginning to dwindle.

“So you think your mom’s excited to finally retire?” Rose asks Poe as Rey flops down onto the couch beside a softly snoring Finn. Poe tucks an arm around him affectionately, adjusting him so that his boyfriend’s torso rests more comfortably in his lap. He nods as he responds.

“Yeah, I think she is. She’s got some elaborate European excursion all planned out for next month, and she and her boyfriend are moving back to Yavin when they return. It’s still weird to think about her not being with Dad, but I’m glad she’s got Wedge in her life. He was as fucked up after Norra passed as Mom was when Dad died… I can’t imagine how weird it would be to start a new life with someone else’s mate, but they seem to be making things work.” Poe shrugs, eyeing Finn fondly (and a bit sadly if Rey’s not mistaken). Before she can parse the meaning, he continues. “But enough with the heavy shit! Have you two decided what you’re wearing tomorrow?” he inquires, waggling his eyebrows at two very confused girls. Rey and Rose share a look before the former begs the question on both of their minds.

“What are you talking about, Poe?” Her heart is rapidly picking up speed.

 _“I mean_ what are you wearing? To the party. Mom’s party. Tomorrow—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get that,” Rose grumbles, arms akimbo. “But I didn’t know we were invited!” Poe grins wickedly.

“Of _course_ you’re invited! There’s gonna be a thousand people there anyway, so you might as well join in all the fun! I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be an open bar—”

“COUNT ME IN!” Rose shrieks emphatically, bouncing in her seat like a living ball of glee. Finn jerks awake with a fright, grumbling under his breath as he moves to a sit on the couch. Beside him, Rey’s panicking at the thought of navigating a crowd of that size, and her response complements Rose’s like the third law of motion:

“Nopenopenopenopenope—”

“Oh, _shove it,_ Rey! You owe me a favor, and I’m calling it in. I’m suddenly in need of a date to a classy-ass retirement party, and you’re _painfully_ eligible.” Then, to Rey’s (newly former) friend on the couch: “Count us in, Poe! We’ll just need to run to the mall in the morning—”

“Rose, I seriously _can’t_ go,” Rey snaps, temper flaring at the girl’s enthusiasm. The room is uncomfortably silent for a moment before she explains. “I don’t have the money to burn on a dress; in fact, if I’m being completely honest, I’m down to my last few dollars until I get paid again next Friday… Just—just go on and enjoy yourself. I’d really rather stay home anyway; you know how I get around crowds, and—”

 _“R-e-y,”_ Rose murmurs tenderly, emphasizing each letter. “I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say finding you something to wear is the least of our concerns at this point... Why didn’t you tell me you needed help earlier at the utilities office? You know I wouldn’t have minded to spot you whatever you needed,” she whispers, patting Rey’s back affectionately. The latter hides her face as Rose relays what happened to a bewildered Finn and Poe.

“Rey, you know we’re happy to help however we can,” Finn insists, Poe nodding solemnly beside him. “And if you think for _one second_ we’re gonna let you sit at home and wallow while we’re out partying, you’ve got another thing coming, Peanut.” Finn punctuates his point with a look of unabashed affection, Poe and Rose following his example.

Surrounded by her three favorite people, Rey indulges in a small moment of happiness.

***

True to their word, Rey’s honorary fairy godmothers dress her up and drag her kicking and screaming to the retirement party. The boys had insisted on sponsoring her outfit for the evening, so she’s now the proud new owner of a soft, off-shoulder crimson gown with an _empire waist_ and _sweetheart neckline_ (terms she hadn’t even _heard of_ until Poe had explained them). Apparently, when combined with the floor-length hem, Rey looked _elegant,_ or so her friends had said.

That was _before_ Rose had had her turn.

After brushing and curling and twisting and pinning, Rose had coxed Rey’s hair into an elaborate updo: a milkmaid braid encircled her head in a halo of chestnut, and a few well-placed strands were pulled loose to soften the look. Rey can’t recall her hair _ever_ looking so nice, but Rose had just shrugged at Rey’s sincere compliment on her work.

“It’s nothing, really. Mom taught Paige and me all sorts of braids she’d learned from one of her sorority sisters back in the day, so we just practiced and practiced until we finally got pretty decent at it.”

“Rose, this is _amazing._ ‘Pretty decent’ is a kriffing _understatement.”_

“Yeah, well, I’m just glad you like it,” she smiled, poking a rebellious hair back into place. Her grin had suddenly taken on an ominous mischievous glint, and Rey blanched when she saw what was coming next.

“So, how do you feel about smoky eyes and lipstick to match that dress…?”

From her current position in the back seat of Poe’s Audi, Rey risks another glance in the front camera of her phone. She worries for the umpteenth time that perhaps the bright red lipstick was too much, too over the top. After all, what kind of message was she trying to convey? This is supposed to be a _retirement_ party, not a visit to fucking _Monte Carlo—_ why on earth had they dressed her up like some-some Omega _hussy?_ What if people think she’s advertising something she’s not willing to give? What if—

“Rey, I can practically _hear_ you panicking from up here,” Finn grumbles, shooting her a look from the vanity mirror. “Please, _calm down._ You aren’t overdressed, and no one’s going to think you’re a two-cent—”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that fucking sentence, Stroop,” Rose snarls, her eyes staring daggers into the back of Finn’s head. Her friend sufficiently silenced, she turns her attention to Rey. “Girl, you look like a bad bitch, and I dare anyone at this party to say otherwise. Hell, who knows—maybe you’ll find a nice sugar daddy to—”

“Now I’m begging _you_ not to finish that sentence, Rose,” Poe groans, massaging his eyes as they wait in line for the valet. Rey still can’t believe Mrs. Dameron’s party is being held at The Citadel—one of the most exclusive venues in the entire country. When she’d asked Poe about his mom’s line of work, he’d mostly shrugged it off with some one-liner about investing.

 _It’s almost as if he’s hiding something,_ she thinks, watching closely as he trades his car key for a slip of paper at the valet desk. Before she can analyze him any further, however, Rose is tugging her through the entrance and into the great hall.

Rey’s heart _drops_ at the scene before her.

About a hundred feet ahead, an enormous set of marble stairs rises gracefully from the floor. A rich, velvety carpet the color of her dress leads the way from where they stand at the door all the way up to the room beyond the staircase. Immaculately dressed partiers lazily mill about, some apparently opting to stand around and chat before journeying further. None of these facts stun Rey in the slightest.

No, what leaves Rey utterly speechless is the procession of _beautiful_ motorcycles angled perfectly along the carpeted path in a steady progression of technological advancement towards the stairs.

She doesn’t even notice she’s crying until Rose begins patting her eyes with a tissue.

“Poe! What the hell is this?! Why’s Rey crying?!” she growls, lobbing a venomous glare at the man. He merely offers a sheepish grin, so Finn finally explains what Poe hasn’t.

“Look, Shara _might’ve been_ involved in the MotoAmerica Association—”

 _“What the fuck is that?”_ Rose hisses, perpetually impatient. Finn rolls his eyes in frustration.

“Motorcycle racing, Rose! She owns— _owned_ Rebel Racing Motorsports. Or well, _co-owned_ I guess I should say…”

“Still doesn’t explain anything!”

Rey whimpers.

“She co-owned it… with Han Solo,” Finn admits, and Rose is rendered speechless at the mention of his name. Their little exchange has drawn a few inquisitive glances, so Poe shuffles them all over into a nearby corner for privacy.

“Finn, I love you, but I’m going to fucking _murder_ your boyfriend,” Rose growls, and if looks could kill, Poe would be a pile of ashes at that moment. The accused seems to come to his senses then, and he hugs Rey tightly in apology. She immediately scents the remorse tainting his otherwise unremarkable Alpha musk.

“I’m so sorry, love. If I’d thought for half a second that this would upset you, I wouldn’t have asked you to come. I guess—I guess I just thought you’d like to reminisce or something… She’s here, by the way,” he murmurs, releasing her with a rueful smile.

Rey knows _instantly_ what he’s referring to.

The tiniest hint of a smile is all the encouragement he needs before he tugs her over to a bike standing alone on a dais at the far side of the entry hall.

 _Still as beautiful as the last time I saw her,_ Rey remarks to herself, a fresh tear escaping despite her best efforts. She dabs it away before it can do too much damage to Rose’s handiwork, and Poe guides her free hand to rest on the right handlebar.

And then she’s touching it.

She’s touching _The Falcon._

***

On a balcony overlooking the entry hall, a set of dark eyes watches the scene unfolding just below with unfettered lust.

_Lavender. Honey. Spring grass._

Home.

The eyes close, and when they reopen, she’s gone.

_But not for long._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER PLS DON'T KILL ME
> 
> Also, let me know what you think of the lack of flashbacks this chapter - love it? hate it? Don't worry, there will be more to come (heh), especially now that it seems the kids are coming together (double heh).
> 
> I regret nothing.
> 
> The next chapter's gonna be i n t e n s e, y'all.
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter: @aquill2thrill


	4. Resist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all have your tickets ready because the smut-train has officially rolled into the station!
> 
> Also, there are multiple POVs this go around, so I hope it's not too discombobulating. I just couldn't figure out a way around it for sake of the trajectory of the narrative.
> 
> Pls don't h8 me. c:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long to get posted, folks; my two month old had a checkup on Thursday that included shots (not fun), and then with the holiday and the #ReyloLove campaign on Twitter, I was wholly indisposed. Here's hoping this installment makes up for it though!
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> Leave a kudos and/or a comment if you please!

*

_Ben_

In the rational corner of his fucked-up mind, Ben knew something like this would happen; it’s just his kind of luck.

_She’s here_ , his hindbrain croons. _She’s_ really fucking _here._

When he and his team had arrived in Coruscant to prepare for this weekend’s race, he’d had every intention to forgo his invitation to Shara Bey’s retirement party. It would’ve been easy enough—feign an illness, remember some last-minute appointment, that sort of thing—but when Shara had requested the presence of _The Falcon,_ he could hardly deny her such a modest wish. The old girl had won her and his dad their first few trophies after all, so like the good and faithful son of Han Solo, he’d conceded.

And because _The Falcon_ doesn’t leave his sight, all his hopes of abrupt illness or prior arrangements had been rendered useless.

_Damn you and your sentimentality, Solo._

Now, here he lurks in the shadows, lording over the grand entryway of The Citadel like the Big Bad Wolf, poised to strike upon catching sight of his Little Red Riding Hood.

_Jesus Christ…_

Unless he’s suddenly become lucid in his own personal rut-dream, she really stands just fifty yards below him, gaping in awe of the room before her— _when it should be the other way around,_ his subconscious cuts in. She’s certainly dressed for the part: wrapped in flawless scarlet that pours down her lithe body in a river of sin. Ben’s positively salivating by the time a hint of her _fucking perfect_ scent wafts its way up to him, and he fills his lungs full until all he can smell—all he can _taste_ —all he can _think about_ is _her._

The situation is even more dire than he’d originally feared.

He is now nothing more than a shark dialed in on a single drop of delicious blood; her fragrance the purest aphrodisiac ever created.

He’d recognize her intoxicating perfume anywhere and from any distance without question. Every other person in the room may as well smell like rotten eggs for all the appeal they hold compared to her. Really, it’s as if his perception of the _entire world_ falls away whenever she’s in his sights, and like something out of a damn _movie_ , time seems to cease all forward movement.

So it’s no wonder, then, the lethal amount of bloodlust he feels when one of the men she’d arrived with suddenly hugs her to him—Shara’s son, Poe, he thinks. He refuses to entertain the possibility that she’s been mated since he’d last checked in on her—he would’ve sensed the moment it happened like a swift and deadly plague upon his soul. And yet, as the dead-man-walking leads her over to _The Falcon,_ Ben unconsciously produces a low-pitched sound so feral it can’t possibly be human.

_I’m suddenly rather famished,_ purrs his inner Alpha with rabid delight, _and it appears the main course has just arrived._

Eyes closing, he draws another deep breath, her scent stoking his desire like high octane fuel.

When he opens them in the next moment, she’s gone.

_I will have her,_ he vows to the ether, any inkling of sane thought carelessly thrown to the wind. _Before this night is over, she_ will _be mine._

A slave to his throbbing scent glands and the sudden tightness of his skin, Ben adjusts his suit jacket and tie, and then he’s bounding back down the hall with a perfectly wicked idea in mind.

***

_Shara_

“I’m really sorry, Shara,” insists the flustered young man before her. “It never crossed my mind that my practice slot might coincide with your party. What can I do to make it up to you?” She offers him a reassuring smile, opting for grace over calling him out on his bullshit—the scent of lust rolling off him is almost nauseating.

_Practicing my ass._

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. That race tomorrow is no joke, and you have to take whatever time they give you.” A sheepish smile transforms his worry-worn features, and the sight reminds her so much of his father that it’s all she can do to ignore the prickling in her eyes. “Just make sure you give it all you’ve got.” She winks, her free hand patting his much larger one held in her other. A small nod preludes his confident response.

“Yes ma’am.” With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he releases her, and despite her best efforts, his retreating form grows blurry in her sight.

_God, he’s certainly a Solo…._

***

_Rey_

She can’t stop replaying the moment in her head.

She’d given up hope of ever seeing Han’s beloved _Falcon_ again, least of all _here,_ so she’s hardly convinced the entire night hasn’t been some elaborate pipedream.

Straining to commit the experience to memory, she replays the reunion in her mind as Rose orders for them at the bar….

“It’s been so long since I last got to see her,” Rey breathed, running her hand along _The_ _Falcon’s_ familiar form. It was somehow even more beautiful than she’d remembered; the low saddle still worn but buffed to a lovely shade of ebony, every exposed piece of chrome _gleaming_ in the ethereal light of the hall, and any remaining surfaces washed and waxed to perfection.

_Han would hardly recognize her,_ she’d snorted, smiling wistfully to herself. At the thought of him, however, her fond recollection was abruptly cut short with a question worrying her brow.

“How long has your mom owned her?” she’d asked, pausing in her ministrations to address Poe. He’d just wagged his head at her, a confused pout forming along his mouth.

“Oh, Mom doesn’t own her,” he explained. “Han’s son does.”

And just like that, Rey’s world had come crashing down.

_“What?!”_ she hissed, her stomach churning violently. “Poe! Does-does that mean he’s _here?!_ Oh no… _OhNoOhNoOhNo—”_

_“Rey,_ calm down. I honestly have no idea where he is. He dropped off the face of the earth _years_ ago after his dad… well, you know. His name hasn’t been on the dockets since. He probably just had _The_ _Falcon_ sent here as a favor to my mom or something.” He’d placed a finger under her wobbling chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Rey. Whether he’s here or not, you’ve got us to look out for you—right gang?” He, Finn, and Rose had exchanged a knowing look before nodding in agreement, offering her a chorus of reassuring smiles.

“Okay, I guess…” Rey had mumbled, shifting her weight in her shiny new flats. “Just stay close… please.”

“You got it, Peanut.” And with an affectionate arm on her shoulder, Finn had ushered her along to the staircase with Rose and Poe at their flanks….

Now, as Rey holds on to the bar for dear life, Rose slides her a shot glass filled with a dark, strong-smelling spirit and mimes for her to knock it back. At Rey’s immediate hesitation, however, she huffs an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Dear, you need to take a fucking _chill pill_ , but since I’m all out, this will have to do,” quips Rose before placing another order with the bartender. Rey stares accusingly at the innocent little glass for a beat before— _fuck it—_ she gulps it in one swift movement. The alcohol burns the back of her throat, causing her eyes to water, but the immediate warmth it instills takes the edge off her rattled mind perfectly.

“I’m gonna need another one of those.” Rose grins wickedly and motions to the bartender for a repeat order, the long sleeve of her teal-sequined dress glittering in the low light of the grand ballroom. Rey can’t help but return a small smile of her own.

“That’s my girl! Now, what do you think Poe and Finn will want? They’ll need something to help get this party started once they’re done talking to Poe’s mom,” she insists, waggling her eyebrows fiendishly. Before Rey can respond, however, Rose’s eyes go wide, and she wriggles off her stool in a hurry. “Shit! Vodka always goes right through me,” she mutters, already teetering away when she seems to recall the situation. “Are you good for a sec, or do you want to come with me?” Rose bounces uncomfortably for a beat while waiting for Rey to reply.

“It’s alright, go ahead. The bathrooms are just over there; I think I’ll be okay for a few minutes,” she insists, hiding her worry behind a second shot of what she assumes to be whiskey. Rose doesn’t waste any time trying to decide if her friend is putting on a front, and she scurries off to the restroom in a blur.

Rey turns back to the bar, ordering a third helping of the liquid courage to keep her anxiety at bay. She’s never been much of a drinker aside from when she and Rose indulge in the occasional bottle of wine or two. Those times have always been in the safety of their homes, though, as public intoxication isn’t exactly safe for unmated Omegas. Rey learned a long time ago not to test the limits, but with her friends watching over her, her inhibitions all but fall—

“Excuse me, miss,” intones a polite voice to her right. She starts out of her reverie in fright, whirling to meet the gaze of a small Beta woman dressed in a staff uniform. An apologetic hand falls on Rey’s as she continues, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. You are Rey Kenobi, correct?”

“Yes,” squeaks Rey in reply, willing her heart rate to slow. The woman smiles and pats her hand.

“Ah, perfect! There’s a gentleman—Poe, I believe was his name—asking for you at the front desk, Miss Rey. Something about how he seems to have forgotten his phone and can’t find his friend…? He asked you to meet him at _The Falcon_ immediately,” she explains with a small nod, observing Rey with kind eyes before turning away into the crowd. In a final moment of lucidity, Rey shoots Rose a text explaining the situation with the assurance that she’ll be right back, and then she takes off into the crowd in the direction of _The Falcon_.

***

_Poe_

_“Mom,_ you really don’t have to tell that story right now,” grumbles Poe, his face on fire. Beside him, Finn is doing a poor job of holding back laughter. It’s not his fault he used to be a stupid kid with stupid ideas; jumping off the roof onto his trampoline had seemed like a great idea at the time. He glares at Finn in frustration, but it only seems to spur his amusement that much more.

“Oh? But I think Finn wants to hear all about it, don’t you, dear?” Shara grins, sharing a sly look with his boyfriend. Poe shakes his head in defeat and runs a hand through his already-tousled hair.

“Well, you two have fun; I’m gonna need to up my blood alcohol level before I can handle any more of this shit,” he mutters, turning away with a huff as he steers through the crowd in a beeline for the bar.

He does not notice the girl in red across the room as she hurries toward her perceived goal, and to her great misfortune, she does not notice him either.

***

_Rey_

As she reaches _The Falcon,_ Poe is nowhere to be found. In fact, aside from the procession of motorcycles, the entire entryway seems deserted.

_Weird… Maybe he found Finn while he was waiting for me? I’d better text Finn and—_

“Hello, Rey,” croons a deep velvet voice from the shadows beyond the hall. She instantly freezes, all coherent thought forgotten as her eyes track the sound, her heart soaring into her throat.

She knows that voice. It’s haunted her dreams every night since—since—

“Don’t be afraid, little one. I feel it, too,” he continues, his scent suddenly crashing into her in a tidal wave of desire. _How the hell hadn’t she noticed it the moment she entered the room?!_ Her disloyal belly suddenly swoops out from under her, and she immediately holds her breath as an embarrassing amount of slick pools between her thighs.

Then, like a beautiful nightmare, out he steps from behind a marble pillar just ten feet in front of her.

He looks almost the same as he did the last time she’d seen him: impossibly tall, of course; dark hair disheveled to perfection, trimmed expertly above his shoulders; his broad frame straining against the smart cut of his midnight suit.

Yet none of this holds a candle to the sharp angle of his jaw or the soft lips smiling innocently in her direction… His prominent nose flares as he catches the scent of her reluctant arousal, and _those eyes—_

_NoNoNoNoNoNo—_

“You—you stay the _hell_ away from me,” she warns, a brazen mouse to a hungry cat. He plays her game and holds steady, but it doesn’t stop his distracting mouth from moving.

“Rey, please. I just want to apologize for the way things ended between—”

_“No!_ No, don’t you _dare!_ You manipulated me, you-you _used me_. So no, don’t even _try_ apologizing to me for what you did—you-you _monster,”_ Rey sneers, suddenly grateful for the bolstering effect of the alcohol in her system. A morose snort is his only response for a minute, but just as she thinks he’ll let her go without a fight, he speaks up again.

“I deserved that,” he mutters, his bewitching voice gravelly with sorrow. A large hand scratches the gland at the nape of his neck, her eyes hopelessly drawn to the movement before he continues. “Please, just give me another chance.”

The heartbreak in his amber eyes kicks her in the guts, glazed as they may be with lust, and Rey’s traitorous body screams at her in ten different kinds of frustration.

_Alpha is sad. Alpha is not pleased. You are a bad Omega. You should obey your Alpha—_

_NO! He is_ not _my Alpha!_

Kneading her temples as bile bubbles up from below, she doesn’t immediately realize she’s voiced the latter part of her inner monologue until she notices his triumphant smirk.

“What’s wrong, _Omega?_ Don’t think I’d make a fine Alpha for you, hm?” he murmurs, lessening the space between them with slow, methodical steps across the carpet. Rey has become little more than a statue, helplessly hypnotized by his languid confidence. A large, calloused hand comes to rest against her neck, and his finger circles the gland behind her ear, flooding her body with sweet relief before he purrs:

_“Because I do.”_

And just like that, every hope Rey ever had of resisting him evaporates in the abrupt heat of her need.

_“Alpha,”_ she whimpers, lolling into his touch like a ragdoll. Her body is now on fire, slick shamelessly running down her thighs as she pants weakly against his wrist. The instant her knees give out, she’s in his arms, babbling incoherently through the pain in her womb as he whisks her away to the elevators.

“Don’t worry, little Omega,” he whispers against her hair. His breath washes over her scent gland and sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m going to make it all better.”

_“Please, Alpha,”_ she thinks she responds, but then they’re in the elevator and his scent is all around her and her body is no longer her own—

“I promise, Rey.” His grip tightens. “I promise.”

***

_Rose_

_“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?!”_ Rose screeches, the two men in front of her cowering in fear of her righteous anger. _As they should!_ she adds to herself, rubbing her temples as she paces a hole in the floor. Whether it’s his designation suddenly kicking in or he’s actually braver than she thought, Poe replies with the patience of a saint.

“We. Haven’t. Seen her. Mom’s got security on alert, but unless one of the staff knows something—”

“Mr. Dameron,” interrupts a quiet voice nearby. Rose and her friends turn to find a meek woman dressed in a steward’s uniform, a nervous sheen of sweat across her brow as she addresses them. “I’m sorry to cut in, but I believe I spoke with your friend earlier. Her name is Rey, correct?”

The friends share a wide-eyed look before Poe replies in the affirmative.

“Well, you see, a rather large gentleman approached me at the front desk about an hour ago and claimed to be you. At the time I had no reason to question him, though of course now I know who—”

“Yes, okay, we get that part!” Rose snarls, stomping toward the woman with unbridled fury. She has the good sense to stumble back— _just get to the fucking point, you dumb bitch!—_ until Finn can grab Rose and cease her assault.

“Rose, cut the crap and let the nice lady tell us what she knows. Save your anger for when we find the bastard,” he hisses between clenched teeth. Rose’s momentary struggle ends almost as soon as it had begun, and she reluctantly puts a cap on her impatience while the terrified steward continues.

“A-anyway, as I was saying. He claimed to be you and asked if I would locate your friend to relay a message. He told me to tell her he’d forgotten his phone and that he’d been separated from the other gentleman in your party,” she smiles apologetically at the very one, and he nods in encouragement. “He requested that she meet him at _The Falcon_ posthaste.”

Rose’s stomach drops to her feet.

_“Oh my God,”_ she breathes a shaky hand covering her mouth. “He really _is_ here. Or _was,_ I guess, until an hour ago… Holy shit, _Poe!_ What are we gonna do?!” Rarely has Rose ever truly panicked in her life, but in this moment—her heart pounding in her chest and tears stinging her eyes—Rose is _panicking._

“First of all, we’re not gonna freak out,” he instructs, grasping her shoulders to ground her to the spot. She nods furiously for a beat and sucks in a deep breath. “Second, we know who we’re looking for and what we’re dealing with, and if I’m not mistaken, I don’t think he’s taken her very far. So, we’re going to check with the front desk of the hotel, and if he’s here, we’ll have them relay a little message of our own.” The wicked glint in his eye strengthens her resolve, but for the life of her, she can’t guess his plan.

“What did you have in mind?” she asks, her voice still a bit too weak for her liking. His answering smile is grim, though hopeful.

“I think _The Falcon’s_ in need of a sudden vacation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm now physically incapable of ending my chapters sans cliffhanger, so I apologize. I swear I'll make it worth the wait next chapter, but until then, let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> xoxo
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter: @aquill2thrill


	5. Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks: all that smut I've been promising you! I hope I've made it worth the wait, but please feel free to let me know in the comments :) This is truly my first attempt at writing this sort of thing, and I want to improve as much as i can. TIA for your help <3
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song "Lonesome Hunter," by Timber Timbre. I definitely recommend giving it a listen if you haven't heard it before!
> 
> https://youtu.be/2R-Ikfyh-6Q

_*_

_Rey_

Her blood is _boiling_.

She can’t remember a time when her body _was not_ on fire. All her senses are heightened to the max; an instinctual reaction upon scenting an Alpha’s rut that is woven into the very strands of her Omega DNA. Everything is too _bright_ , too _loud_ , too _rough_ against her skin. She is captive body and soul to the throes of sensory overload, her body crying out for relief.

“Hold on, little one,” croons that perfect voice once more. It’s the only sound that brings her any ounce of comfort now. “It’ll all be better soon.”

Hot tears stream freely down her face. The rational lobe of her brain is largely overpowered, but it’s there, screaming for her to— _run—run now—before it’s too late—before you do something stupid—something you’ll regret—_ but it’s no use; she’s enslaved by her body’s demand for carnal satisfaction. A helpless little lamb, she clings to her carnivorous lover for dear life, and he reciprocates with a hungry air of desperation. Her nose nestles into the gland at his ear, an instinctual search for comfort—

And _God_ he smells like fucking _heaven_.

Like Omegas, all Alphas have their own unique musk; however, no two smell exactly alike. Poe’s scent, for example, often reminds her of salt and citrus with notes of cedar and earth. It’s not at all _un_ pleasant to Rey’s senses, but neither is it remotely attractive. Maz’s scent, on the other hand, reminds her of cinnamon and sugar and the warmth of a mother’s love, and it brings her peace and comfort and security on her darkest days.

 _Ben’s_ scent, however….

It’s still that heady combination of _clean_ and _smoke_ and _warmth_ and _spice,_ but _now,_ in this moment, it is a thousand-fold in its intensity. Enriched by a mouth-watering tang that can only be described as _sex,_ his perfect cologne penetrates her senses like a drug. The addictive taste clings to the roof of her mouth and the meat of her tongue, and she gives herself over to its inebriating properties all too willingly.

Finally— _finally—_ the odious elevator crawls to a stop, and as soon as the doors open, they’re cantering down a dim hallway lined with identical ornate doors. Ben places her on her feet just long enough to produce a room key from his pocket, and he has to shush her desperate mewl at the loss of contact.

“We’re here, my love, we’re here.” He helps her into the dark room, and she stumbles in after him, hopelessly intoxicated.

The door has hardly clicked shut when he slams her back against it, her head bracketed by his hands and his lips melding to hers. He kisses her fiercely, not unlike a dying man tasting his first drop of water after a lifetime wandering the desert. Teeth clack together, lips are nibbled, then bitten, then _sucked,_ and tongues tangle in a dance of desperation. _How had she forgotten how sweet he tastes?_

Her white-knuckled grip on his neck is borderline painful. She is ruled by an all-consuming need to fuse their bodies into one. He must agree, for she _gasps_ when his mouth starts mauling the column of her throat.

He has effectively sandwiched her between the cold steel door and his stifling heat, and it transforms her body into a conduit of sensation. Everywhere he touches sends an electric shock of pleasure arcing straight to her core, radiating throughout her torso in erotic little sparks of perfection. The feeling is spectacular— _even better than she’d remembered_ —but it’s not enough.

It’s not _nearly_ enough.

Their thoughts of one accord, his hands travel down to her thighs to hoist her up against him. Her womb _throbs_ when she feels his hardness pressing _so close_ to where she wants him, _needs_ him _._ Hips grinding reflexively, she whimpers as a new wave of slick pools in the gusset of her underwear. Ben growls, his teeth sinking into her trapezius as he _finally_ carries her away from the door.

His deft tongue is an instrument of ecstasy; there’s no other way to describe it. When he releases his bite, it strokes a thick line across her shoulder with the precision of da Vinci’s paintbrush. Only when they collide with the bed does it find even more useful employment.

 _“Please,_ Alpha,” she whines, tugging on his hair until he moves to nibble the gland behind her ear. A white-hot surge of bliss lashes viciously through her central nervous system, momentarily blinding her with rapture. She arcs into him like a bowstring, desperate for any lick of friction to bring her back to earth. She doesn’t even realize she’s warbling her pleasure until a large, warm hand reaches up to muzzle her.

“Quiet, little Omega,” purrs her Alpha. And he _is_ her Alpha; how could she have ever doubted that? His hot breath tickles her gloriously abused scent gland, and the sensation kicks her muffled mewling up an octave. “We wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.” She just glimpses the ghost of a wicked smile and a devious glint in his ravenous eyes as he resumes nibbling along her jaw, and then she’s lost to the miracle of his ministrations once more.

While his mouth forges along on its mission of sin, his free hand travels low to grasp her skirt. Long fingers graze her inner thigh and send deliciously tantalizing sparks straight to her core. He slowly gathers the soft fabric up and over her legs until— _fucking finally_ —he exposes the throbbing apex of her thighs. He makes quick work of her lace underwear, tearing it free in the throes of his hedonistic desire. Blessedly bare to him, she keens against his hand as his fingers begin to languidly massage her sex.

She releases his hair then to shove her hands under the lapel of his jacket, suddenly offended by the otherwise appealing piece of clothing. She wants it _gone._ She needs them skin to skin.

Her whisper is desperate against his mouth, “Take this off—take it off, please.”

He grants her wish and removes his coat, but it costs her the loss of his warmth and skillful dexterity. Rather than prolong his inevitable disrobing, he quickly adds his shirt and slacks to the growing pile of discarded shoes and clothing on the floor.

“You’re still far too overdressed, sweetheart,” he rasps, deep voice thick with yearning. The sound alone sends her pulse into the stratosphere.

Without warning, he jerks her up from the bed, and she clumsily pulls the ruined dress over her head. Her breasts are now practically exposed beneath the thin lace of her white bralette, and the air-conditioned room pebbles her nipples against the meager covering. Ben’s eyes darken further at the sight, happily parting with another sliver of his sanity. In one swift movement, his mouth claims the hardened flesh, worrying her nipple through the lace.

The sensation is _electrifying_.

He lowers her back onto the bed, his clever hands replacing his mouth against her breasts. Instead of joining her, however, he brings himself eye-level with her swollen quim, openly salivating at what he finds.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, his mouth mere centimeters above her flesh. His hot breath elicits a river of slick that runs shamelessly between her shivering thighs. “You look like a fucking _feast,_ Rey… Have to taste you…”

Suddenly, his brilliant tongue draws a scorching path up her slit, and Rey is rendered a raw bundle of nerves.

As he latches onto her clit in the next moment, a sharp spasm of pleasure-pain cleaves across her womb, and she keens against her elbow. It is a virtual lightning strike, promising what is sure to be a thunderous orgasm looming on the horizon. He brutalizes her little bundle of nerves, his tongue twirling round and round in a lazy, maddening pirouette. His hands are just as busy: long fingers shoved beneath her bra to tweak her nipples without mercy. Occasionally, his tongue relents just long enough to lap at her sopping folds and to tease at her entrance, but then he’s right back to his marvelous torment of her bud.

Eventually, he syncs his movements; his tongue flicking over her clit at the same time he roughly squeezes her breasts (which fit perfectly in his huge hands, she notes with an odd sense of satisfaction), and she’s forced to jam a fist in her mouth as a frantic scream tears loose from her throat.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, halting his onslaught to speak. A rough finger rises to trace her trembling lip. “Such a good girl for your Alpha… You taste like fucking _candy,_ Rey. So _sweet_ … Gonna give me a damn cavity.” She watches him from beneath heavy eyelids, chest heaving, as he regards her with a cunning glint in his eyes. In one swift movement, he gives her bud a single _lick,_ and she yelps at the sudden jolt of pleasure. A predatory grin taunts her just as her eyes screw shut, and he caresses her cheek innocently. “Next time we do this, we’ll go somewhere you can scream all you want, little one.”

She’s sure she’s not imagining the self-satisfied growl thrumming through his body, especially once his mouth returns to her weeping sex. The low vibration against her clit combines sinfully with the movement of his lips, and when he abruptly grazes her with his _teeth—_

“I’m—I’m gonna—” she squeaks, shuddering helplessly as she hovers ever closer on the edge of euphoria. Her hands fly into his hair, desperate to ride his mouth to completion, and he pulls away momentarily to encourage her with his words.

“That’s it, Omega. _Come for me.”_ Ben growls as he gives back his tongue, and at her Alpha’s command, she throws herself into an inferno of pleasure unlike anything she’s ever known.

As if she weren’t already lost to the next galaxy of sensation, he slides two thick fingers along her slick and then inside her in a single motion, pumping her ruthlessly. Provided with something to clamp down on, an impossible _second_ orgasm seizes her, her thighs clenching around his hand as any remaining semblance of her self-control is thoroughly burned away. He offers her a languid smile from where he lay perched on an elbow beside her, and she’s taken aback all over again at his leonine demeanor.

“My perfect girl,” he purrs, his voice returning to the molten velvet tone she craves. His eyes immediately fall to her lips, wetting his own in response. The imaginary magnet between her shivering legs finally releases, and he brings his slick-soaked hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean one by one with a wet _pop… pop… pop_. “Such a perfect little Omega. Tell me what you want, sweetheart; I need to hear you say it.” Her heart skips a few times as she tries to formulate a response.

 _“Please, Alpha—please,_ Ben—I need— _I need you inside me,”_ she whimpers, her voice breaking with the force of her insatiable need. Her body is screeching at her to fulfill its purpose— _breed, breed, breed_ —but she can’t devise a coherent way to express this desire. It’s certainly not what the rational part of her brain wants; thank _God_ she’s stayed up to date on her contraceptive shots. Despite her ambiguous answer—technically he’s _already_ been inside her—he parses her meaning, a sharp-toothed smile flashing in the low light.

“So good, sweetheart. I love it when you use your words,” lauds the devil at her shoulder, running a lazy finger down her centerline from collarbone to clit. “Do you want me to come inside you?” he asks innocently, drawing a circle around her bud. “Do you want to take my knot?”

She nods so quickly she’s almost ashamed of herself.

Rather, she _would_ be ashamed if she could remember why she _should be_ in the first place.

“Say it, Rey,” he growls in her ear. “I need you to _say it.”_ He’s not at all satisfied with her non-verbal affirmation. A large hand gently threatens a manacle around her throat, and she has to swallow once, _twice,_ before she’s able to reclaim her voice.

 _“Please, Alpha,”_ she whispers. “Please c-come in m-me and give m-me your _knot_ —” Her voice breaks, teeth chattering as she shivers with equal parts pain and magnificent fear. “Just-just make it _go away_. It-it _hurts_ so _much—”_

“Yes, little one, I’ll make it go away. I’ll take care of you.” His throaty whisper grazes her yet untasted scent gland, and he acknowledges his oversight with a snarl. His lips clamp onto the swollen flesh and _suck,_ and for the nth time that night, she can’t even remember her fucking _name—_

 _“Oh God—”_ she breathes, her heart jammed in her throat. As his lips crash against hers, she can feel the victorious smile transforming every inch of his perfect mouth. Tongues dancing recklessly between them, he greedily swallows every moan she creates as he grinds against her center.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Omega?” The hand at her throat holds her stock still as his teeth scrape up from shoulder to jaw. “You want me to fucking _devour_ you.”

Rey is absolutely swimming with slick.

“You can’t hide it from me, Rey. Your body betrays how badly you want me; how badly you _need_ my knot—” He fucks her with his fingers again, his pace intentionally reckless. She feels the warmth building low in her belly once more. “This isn’t enough, is it, little Omega? Are you ready to beg?”

 _Jesus Christ, that_ mouth—

“Ah—please—AH— _please_ Alpha— _please_ give me your knot!”

 _“Damn,_ you’re so _fucking perfect,_ sweetheart,” he groans, the gravelly tone returning. “My perfect girl… Gonna fuck you till you come all over my knot. Gonna fill you up like a goddamn _cream pie—"_

And just like that, Rey is hit with her third orgasm of the evening.

_The wretched things that mouth does to her…._

In so many ways.

He hardly gives her time to _breathe_ after her earth-shattering orgasm begins to fade. Impatient to fuck her, he divests himself of his underwear and flips her onto her front as if she weighs nothing at all. She feels the head of his cock pressing against her entrance, and his nose skims along her shoulder towards her ear.

“You’re so wet for me, little one,” he croons with unabashed pride, slowly gliding himself up and down her drenched slit. “Such a good girl for your Alpha. Now, ask me nicely, Omega. I’ll reward you for good manners.”

_“Please, Alpha—Please, Ben—"_

He instantly impales her to the hilt.

Rey realizes two things in rapid succession:

One: _holyfuckingshit he’s huge_.

Two: She is marvelously _ruined._

The lovers remain frozen for a long moment, simply relishing feeling of—quite literally—being so intimately connected to another person. She constricts around him _hungrily,_ her wet heat latching onto his member with greed. Before he has a chance to start thrusting into her, however, she grinds her ass back against him, desperate for any modicum of movement. She hears a sharp intake of breath, and a hand grips the meat of her rump, stilling her against her will. He seems to consider something for a moment before—

_Slap!_

Without warning, his other hand connects with her bare backside, and she clamps down on him with a sharp keen of pleasure.

 _What the_ fuck _is wrong with her?_

“Shit, Rey, I didn’t know you liked it rough,” he hisses through clenched teeth, massaging her abused flesh. He finally begins a punishing assault on her cunt, thrusting so deeply that he repeatedly collides against her cervix.

 _“Fuck,_ sweetheart—so—fucking—tight—” he rasps, emphasizing each word with another snap of his pelvis. Rey is nearly sobbing with relief, her body rejoicing at each meeting of his hips against her buttocks. Suddenly, he rears back on his haunches, one muscular arm hooking around her waist to pull her onto his lap. He joins forces with gravity now, using her own weight to fuck her on his cock. His other hand grips her well-disheveled hair, wrenching her neck back to a near painful degree.

“So good, little one; so good for your Alpha,” he whispers to her gland, tasting it once more. “Your’re taking my cock so well—so beautifully, my love. You’re gonna look like a fucking _goddess_ with my knot in you—”

It’s happening again, that quickening in her lower abdomen. Each time he drives into her, he shoves her ever closer to the cliff’s edge. She’s never came so many times in rapid succession, so while her body may be aching, it is the most sacrosanct pain she’s ever known.

His calloused fingers work her clit furiously, and she feels his knot beginning to swell. He’s close, and it’s driving her _mad_. She longs for it to finally _catch_ inside her and fulfill its purpose: to lock them together in evolution’s primal, procreative embrace. Her womb is positively _throbbing_ with want, and she can’t stifle a series of moans as the sensation builds and builds and _builds—_

She comes kicking and screaming, her body pulled taut like the string of a harp. Ben follows just behind her, his knot gloriously expanding as he shouts his release. He barely catches himself from collapsing on top of her, his body quaking with the effort. As if on autopilot, he continues thrusting as much as his knot will allow. With every tug against her vice-grip, he expels another warm gush of his seed within her womb, and it is the most satisfying sensation she’s ever known.

It’s a lethal enchantment. A dangerous addiction.

A terrifying equilibrium.

Rey finds herself suddenly dreading the next half-hour they’ll have to spend conjoined.

Carefully negotiating their condition, Ben hauls them onto their sides, her back against his solid chest. The vice grip of his arms around her threatens to hold her captive for far longer than his knot.

The thought alone leaves a sharp pang in her heart, and she hides her face in the pillow.

“Rey? Rey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Ben worries into her hair, stroking a few stray tendrils away from her face. She can’t speak around the lump in her throat, so she shakes her head, shying away from his touch. He settles for holding the curve of her shoulder, a helpless gesture of comfort as she begins to sob.

Her arms fold tightly over her heaving chest, desperately trying to hold herself together. All her efforts are rendered null and void however as soon as his next words meet the air.

“I love you, Rey. I always have, you know,” he confesses to her neck, punctuating his admission with a small peck above _that_ gland. She shudders, more scared of him now than she has ever been. Her sentiments leak out into her scent, and in an attempt to comfort her, he entangles their legs, returning his arm across her middle to crush her to him.

It’s the wrong move; it jostles his knot, and he reflexively spills into her once more with a primal grunt. The sensation that was once so transcendent to Rey now all but turns her stomach, and she can only weep as she’s forced to endure the consequences of their coupling.

“I’m so sorry, Rey,” Ben croaks against her ear. Is that a trace of moisture she feels against her temple, or is she imagining it? “I love you, I’m so sorry.”

And in the deepest most derelict chamber of her heart, she knows she loves him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, people. LET ME HAVE IT.
> 
> Was it good? Bad? Some combination of the two?
> 
> PLS leave me a comment with your honest opinion!
> 
> Until next time, then (which will hopefully be soon!)
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter: @aquill2thrill


	6. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, folks! 
> 
> It certainly took me long enough to get this posted, so THANK YOU for your patience!
> 
> Now, please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times. On today's trip, we'll be journeying down memory lane to endure some much-needed back story, so please enjoy your complementary plot brownie and buckle up for the longest chapter yet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE S/O to my good friend AmberDread who beta'd this beast for me! If you haven't checked out her works yet, what are you waiting for??? DEW IT.
> 
> All credit goes to her for the invention of the designation branch of Internal Affairs as well! <3

*

_Rose_

“What—”

“Yes, that’s correct. Five-feet-seven-inches, about a hundred and twenty pounds, brown hair, hazel—Yes, she’s an Omega, I already—No, she’s not _mated!_ What does that have to do with—"

“What— _what are they saying?!”_ Rose all but shouts, glaring at Finn where he stands bickering into his phone by the glass entryway of The Citadel’s hotel lobby. They’d resorted to calling 911 after security turned them away from the elevators for lacking proof of residency, and the manager had insisted that they couldn’t relinquish guest information without a warrant.

Rose wanted to tell the asshole that he already had a warrant—a warrant for a swift kick to the _face_.

But of course, law abiding citizen he was, Finn had dragged her kicking and screaming out into the chilly evening air outside the main entrance, desperate to cool her off.

But _not_ before executing his part in the plan.

Now, here they were: Finn pleading with a 911 operator, Rose stomping a well-worn path into the pavement with her heels, and Poe….

Poe was fucking _brilliant._

The second he’d mentioned “borrowing” _The Falcon,_ Rose had decided he was nothing less than a motherfucking _genius_.

Within moments of detailing his plan to a curious Finn and Rose, he’d sprung into action. With Finn’s assistance, they’d lifted the bike off the dais, and, after a few nervous glances, Poe had started rolling it toward the front door.

 _“POE!”_ a voice had called out, ringing through the empty entrance hall like a clap of thunder. Rose’s hand flew instantly to her chest, her heart stuck somewhere between stopping and racing.

 _If it’s possible to die of absolute dread, we’re about to drop like flies,_ she’d thought.

Frozen, the three would-be bike-nappers turned on timid feet to face their accuser—only to be met with the authoritative visage of Shara Bey Dameron surveying them like a hawk from her perch atop the staircase.

She’d descended slowly, her mahogany eyes not once departing from her red-handed child. Crimson lips held fast in a tight line, the regal cut of her silken emerald gown bestowed her with all the grace and respect commanded by a queen, and Rose was awestruck.

 _Damn. Can I be_ her _when I grow up?_

Shara approached her son, silently regarding his shocked expression before glancing at Rose and Finn.

“And just what exactly do you three think you’re doing?” she’d asked, her dark tresses curling around her shoulders as she looked between them. Poe had started to sputter the makings of their plan, but she’d abruptly held up a hand to shut him down. She slowly moved it to rest upon Poe’s where he gripped the handlebar, a rueful smile forming on her lips.

“Take it to my garage,” she’d instructed, one Alpha to another. “I’ve already made some phone calls, and a very good friend of mine will be there to meet you. He’ll know exactly what to do. I’ll keep an eye out here for your friend.” After imprinting her directions on his hand with a firm pat, she’d offered Finn and Rose a conspiratorial smile and turned back the way she’d come….

“You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me, right?! _Right?!_ My friend is in danger and you’re saying— _I don’t give a fuck what the laws are, just—_ you know what? Fine. We’ll take care of this ourselves.” Finn ends the call and rears his phone back as if to slam it onto the pavement. Just before he catapults it, however, he seems to think better of it, sighing heavily with defeat instead.

For a long moment, he just stands there with his back to her, chest heaving, fist clenched tight around the phone. When he finally turns to Rose, his eyes are red-rimmed, and his lower lip is quivering. She gets the sense that he isn’t exactly _sad_ per se—no, he’s blindingly _furious_. A sheen of sweat glints across his dark forehead in the low light of the porte cochere, and he swipes at it with the sleeve of his navy suit jacket as Rose addresses him through clenched teeth.

“Stroop. What. The fuck. Did they say.” It’s not really a question, and he knows it. Rose has a sinking suspicion she already knows what they told him, but she still needs to hear it confirmed. A loose lock of hair whips across her face in the evening breeze, and it’s all she can do to keep from ripping it out. Idly, she wonders how Rey’s hair is holding up, and… She’s never been one to have nightmares, but _God_ , does she feel like she’s living one now.

“They—they _can’t_ do anything,” Finn mutters thickly, air quoting the word “can’t.” “They said because she’s an unmated Omega, the law states that police are not allowed to interfere with a possible mating... If they were to burst through the door, guns ablaze, and he _attacked,_ or got _killed,_ they’d have the designation branch of Internal Affairs on their ass so fast they wouldn’t know what hit them…” He trails off, hands diving into his pockets as he scuffs a shoe on the ground. He looks the spitting image of defeat.

Rose could fucking _puke._

“What the actual _fuck?!_ So, what, he has more rights than _her?!_ He fucking _kidnapped_ her and is holding her against her will!” Rose is _livid_ now and unable to suppress the urge to stomp her foot. It connects so harshly against the sidewalk that the impact reverberates up her shinbone, and she’s certain she hears her wedge crack. She thought she’d been furious earlier when she wanted to rip that hardass manager in half, but _now_ … Now she’s out for _blood_.

“I know, Rose. Anyone with common sense can understand that she’s the victim in all this. Especially after all the shit he put her through back in the day…”

“What? What all _happened_ exactly, Finn? She’s told me a few things—mostly that she’s just flat-out _terrified_ of him, but… I get the feeling she hasn’t told me _everything_ . _”_ Rose surprises herself with the level of calmness she’s able to maintain while referencing the _bastard,_ and Finn nods solemnly as the valet pulls up with Poe’s car.

“Come on. Poe texted me the address for his mom’s garage; I’ll tell you everything I know on the way.”

***

_Finn_

“You’re right,” he says as he and Rose pile into the car. He quickly dials down the heater and connects his phone to the car’s Bluetooth, transferring the address of Shara’s garage into the GPS. “She _is_ terrified of him, and for good reason. It wasn’t always that way, though…”

Rose clicks her seatbelt into place and eyes him warily, rearranging the shoulder strap to lay more comfortably across her abdomen. “What do you mean, Finn?”

Finn’s unable to repress a shuddering breath as he mimics her actions, drawing out each movement to delay the inevitable. Adjusting his suit coat, he shifts the car in drive, carefully steering them through the darkening parking lot. After rubbing the sadness from his eyes, he pulls out into the heavy traffic typical of a Coruscant Saturday night.

“Tell me, Finn. I need to know what we’re up against here,” says Rose in a low voice, her ebony eyes pleading. With a nod, he resigns himself to the dregs of his memory and trains his focus on the road ahead….

It was the Spring semester of his senior year. Finn hadn’t lived long in Jakku—only the past year or so—but when his gran had asked him to move in with her for companionship, he couldn’t say no. They’d been close his whole life; he never really made friends easily—no one his own age seemed interesting enough to befriend—so it wasn’t a question of _if_ so much as _when_ once his gran had requested he come stay with her. His workaholic parents rarely saw him anyway, so it was just as well in their opinion that he moved in with her if only to keep her company and gain some independence.

That’s how he found himself as one of 200 students at Niima County High School—a decrepit building that seemed near-ready to crumble under the heat of the Arizona sun. And on the first day of his senior Spring semester, the sun had finally penetrated that old dust pile—in the form of a petite ball of energy known appropriately as _Rey_.

“Is this seat taken?” she’d asked, the books in her arms bigger than she was. Finn had reluctantly glanced up from his English 401 syllabus, not entirely keen on sharing his space. However, once he took in the sight of the triple-bunned little ragamuffin before him, he felt immediately at ease. Surely no one who was brave enough to wear such an absurd hairdo on the first day of school could be _that_ boring. With a small smile, he’d consented.

She’d beamed back at him.

“I’m Rey,” she stated simply, offering him a handshake. “What’s your name?”

Suppressing a chuckle at her boldness, he met her outstretched hand with genuine fervor.

“Finn. Finn Stroop—And yes, I know my last name’s ridiculous, but—”

“No way! I think it’s great,” insisted the golden-skinned girl, her nose wrinkling as she smirked. “My last name’s Kenobi, but it doesn’t really mean anything to me,” she added, her hazel eyes dimming with sadness. Was it just him, or did the lights overhead seem to dim, too? “I’m a foster kid, so this place—” she gestured around the classroom— “is all new to me.”

Finn smiled ruefully, willing himself not to feel pity for Rey; she didn’t seem like the type to want it. Instead, he nodded, patting her on a hoodie-clad shoulder as he said, “Don’t worry, Rey. Everything here’s pretty boring, so you have nothing to be afraid of.” Her lips seemed to twitch upward despite themselves, and the room brightened once more. “I’d be happy to be your friend if you ever want someone to talk to or hang out with. I’ve only been here since the start of last summer, so I don’t know much about town but—”

“Finn! That sounds great. I’ve never really had a friend before,” Rey cut in, all but vibrating enthusiasm. He huffed a laugh, flashing his teeth nervously just as the teacher called the room to order….

It was several weeks later when she’d first mentioned Ben Solo, and something about the way she described the dude made Finn antsy from the start. She’d admitted they’d had an odd initial meeting—as oftentimes happens between young, unmated Alphas and Omegas—but that he’d then come back later that week and apologized. It was only once Finn had really pressed her for details that she’d finally fessed up about what all his apology had entailed….

“Well, he _might’ve_ invited me to stop by his dad’s garage sometime... He said they’re always there, always getting ready for the next big race. He races _motorcycles,_ Finn, can you believe that?! He said it’s nothing for them to go over 200 miles an hour on some parts of the tracks, and the curves are so sharp their kriffing _knees_ scrape the ground! He showed me a few pictures from his last race on his phone—there were _sparks_ flying out behind him, and—”

“Rey, are you sure he’s legit?” Finn asked, frightened at her degree of infatuation. “It sounds to me like he’s just trying to impress you.” He couldn’t ignore the twisting feeling in his stomach when she’d replied, and it only worsened when she went from bouncing with excitement to rolling her eyes in a huff.

“Finn, he’s _fine_ . Really, _really_ fine, if I’m being totally honest…” Rey blushed scarlet, and Finn thought he might barf. An older Alpha had no right hitting on a young, impressionable Omega like Rey, and Finn wanted to hunt the asshole down and give him a piece of his mind.

Then, Rey told him what he’d feared most.

“He said he’d like to take me out sometime. Obviously there’s nothing to do in Jakku, though, so we’d have to ride up to Adrathorpe…” A goofy grin suddenly broke free from its confines, curling sweetly along her mouth.

“And he might’ve kissed me…”

Finn froze.

She’d spoken so shyly, hands clasped tightly behind her back as she watched her foot grind a pebble into the concrete outside _Maz’s._ Finn had started coming by more and more frequently once she’d explained her living situation, and her shifts were often the only times they got to hang out outside of school. He sure hadn’t seen Mr. Perfect Boy Solo, though, and it seemed to him that if the dude were really _that_ interested in Rey, he’d be right here with Finn, pestering her all throughout her shifts.

But, of course, what did _Finn_ know?

When he’d said as much and offered only blatant disdain for the guy making a move on her, Rey had burned brighter than he’d ever seen her.

Not with happiness, though.

With _fury_.

“Oh, what the _hell_ do you know, Finn?! Don’t I get a say in what I do and don’t want in my relationships? I _wanted_ him to kiss me, so he did, okay?” Tears brimmed her eyes, and she shook her head fiercely as Finn tried to reply. _“NO!_ No, Finn! I’ve never gotten to choose what happens to me, but this is something I _want,_ something I _need!_ He said he likes me, too, and wants to take me on dates and to the races and—and _I’m going to do it!”_ she’d declared, stomping the sidewalk. Finn could only stand by, utterly dumbstruck at his best friend’s behavior, and he had to swallow against the lump in his throat as he tried desperately not to cry. Regardless, his voice was raw when he finally spoke.

“All right, Rey. If you say so. I’m not going to stand here and watch him break your heart though. For your sake, I hope everything works out.”

Barely meeting his gaze, Rey crossed her arms and sniffled, rubbing the heel of her hand across each eye. Figuring that was the only response he was going to get, he’d nodded, turning to head for his ragged old Camry.

“Finn—Finn!” she’d called, her voice breaking with the effort. Heaving a sigh, he looked back to where she stood shivering in her thin work uniform of dark slacks and button up shirt. Nighttime in the desert was always cold, but add winter on top of that, and it became downright _frigid_. After another moment of gathering her resolve, she continued, “Please don’t hate me... I just want to feel in control of something for once in my life.”

And how could he begrudge her that one meager wish? Finn pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to calm down before he spoke again. Rey’s teeth were chattering, so he needed to make this quick.

“Rey, I don’t hate you. Hell, I even understand why you’d want to date him—I would too if we’re being real here. But I also know how guys work. Our brains are in our crotches, Rey, and if he’s an Alpha, he’s twice as bad as any normal person with a dick. He only wants you for one thing and one thing only, and I pray to anyone who’s listening that you’ll see that before he sinks his teeth into you.”

The words left his mouth before he realized the double meaning, and Rey gasped at his apparent crassness. It was one thing to disagree with a friend’s choice in significant other, but to openly and tactlessly insult the act of _mating_ —even if the relationship hadn’t reached or considered the act at all—he’d crossed a line. A very sensitive, very solid line.

They mirrored each other’s expressions of horror.

“Rey! I didn’t mean it like—”

“LEAVE! Just _leave,_ Finn!” she’d cried, stomping back into _Maz’s_ with all the ferocity of an angry mouse. Finn was sure he was going to vomit, and he spent the next few minutes gulping the cold air to quell his rising nausea. His eyes stung and his throat hurt as he strained to dam up his emotions, and once his sickness had mostly passed, he’d thrown himself into the car and rushed home….

Just three days later, out on an errand for his gran, he’d spotted them outside Jakku’s tiny-ass library. Rey, her arms full of books; and a man he could only assume must be Ben Solo standing in front of her. He’d reached to tuck a stray curl behind Rey’s ear, and she’d fucking _beamed_ at him like he’d hung the moon.

Finn wanted to scream, wanted to punch something—preferably _Ben_ —wanted to snatch Rey up and drag her back to _Maz’s_ kicking and screaming if he had to. Anything to get her away from _that prick_.

God, she’d looked like a damn toothpick next to him. How had he not broken her already? The douche was easily a whole head taller than her and broad as a fucking barn. Finn felt that familiar bile bubbling up his throat, but before he could act on his instincts, he ducked into the grocery store across the street to get away….

He’d hated his time away from Rey. Although they’d only been friends for a short while, they’d instantly connected, and he found himself lost like a ship at sea without her around to guide him back to calmer waters. She was a little beacon of sunshine, really, and he was sure that’s why _Ben_ must’ve found her appealing. Well, aside from whatever Alpha/Omega bullshit he was pulling on her.

Finn grimaced as he turned into the parking lot at _Maz’s._ He hadn’t come here for a fight; he’d come to beg for forgiveness. She’d been completely avoiding him at school, ignoring every attempt he’d made at speaking to her, and he was finally at his wit’s end. A month of this shit was enough, and Finn was determined to earn her forgiveness by any means necessary.

It was just a little after four in the afternoon, so there were only a handful of customers scattered around the dining room when he walked in. A girl he recognized from his History 430 class greeted him and led him to a booth that bordered the front windows, promising his server would be right with him.

He gave the menu a half-hearted glance; he’d tried most everything on it once he’d started hanging out here with Rey, but he wasn’t sure he could eat right now regardless. A sharp intake of breath suddenly sounded from across the dining room, and Finn looked up to see Rey frozen in shock, staring directly back at him.

As quick as a whip, she flew over to his table, and Finn noticed an odd shade of green pervading her usual sun-kissed complexion. He immediately felt as confused as she seemed nervous, but he waited for her to speak.

“Finn, you can’t be here,” she’d hissed, her eyes darting haphazardly at the parking lot just outside the window. “If he sees you here, he’ll—”

“He’ll _what,_ Rey? What? What’ll he do? I’m not afraid of him, and you shouldn’t be either—not if he’s as great a guy as you seem to think he is.” He planted his face in his hand, taking a deep breath as he forced himself to calm down before continuing. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, I came here to apologize to you. I said some things that were totally uncalled for, and—”

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” crooned a deep voice nearby. Finn and Rey had become so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them had noticed him walking right up behind them, and Rey jumped ten feet in the air as a large arm fell across her shoulder.

Finn wanted to _strangle_ him.

Rey recovered much quicker than Finn. “Oh, hey, babe,” she cooed, offering up one of her highest caliber smiles. Finn had nearly gagged at the tone of her voice; she’d sounded even younger than she looked next to _him_. “I just started my shift when my friend, Finn, showed up, and I was about to take his order. Isn’t that right, Finn?” She glanced back over her shoulder with a desperate look, and Finn begrudgingly swallowed the razor-sharp words he wanted to fling at the smug bastard hugging her side. He did not, however, wipe the glare off his face as he met Ben’s gaze and nodded, cracking his knuckles under the table.

Ben mirrored his actions with the added effect of a withering smile.

Oh, Finn would _not_ lose this pissing match.

“O- _kay_ ,” Rey began, trying to tug Ben away from Finn’s booth. “How about I show you to your regular spot then, and—”

“No thanks, sweetheart. I think I’d like to join Flynn here and get to know him a little better,” Ben interrupted, an almost imperceptible twitch beneath his left eye even as he smiled sweetly at her.

Finn wanted to punch it.

“His name’s not Flynn, it’s Finn,” corrected Rey quietly, and Finn could scream for the fearful lilt to her voice. “And he probably doesn’t want—”

“No, Rey. It’s fine,” Finn replied, his eyes never breaking contact with Ben’s. The taller man’s smile grew devilish, and he shoved the rolled sleeves of his greasy flannel shirt up to his elbows as he folded himself into the bench across from Finn.

Ben looked every bit the dirty, motorcycle-riding bad boy.

Beneath the open flannel he wore a tank top with matching grease stains, and his tattered jeans hadn’t fared much better. His dark hair was slicked back against his head, though with sweat or a fresh shower, Finn couldn’t tell. Heavy leather boots and a wicked smirk completed the ensemble, and when he laced his fingers together and braced his arms on the table, Finn understood what Rey saw in him.

He was _hot_ , dammit. Thank God Finn hated him, otherwise he might be turned on.

“Okay, I’ll just… Grab your usual, then,” Rey squeaked, and with that, Finn was left to a deadly standoff he was determined to win.

“So, _Finn,”_ sneered Ben, wrinkling his nose as if the word were particularly distasteful. Finn scoffed, rolling his eyes to the window. “What brings you out to this neck of the woods, hm? Checking up on my girl?”

My girl. _My girl._

Finn saw red.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Finn replied truthfully, straightening his spine as his own dark eyes returned to Ben’s. “She’s my best friend, and I will protect her at all costs.” He’d hoped his pathetic sense of bravery was reflected in the glare he threw at the dark-haired man staring him down, but when the guy started _laughing—_ straight up _cackling—_ Finn felt his heart begin to sink.

“Shit—fuck, dude, I’m sorry, it’s just—” another round of chuckling— “it’s just, _God,_ you sound like a damn superhero or some shit,” he guffawed, breathless with whatever it was he found so funny.

Finn was not amused.

“Yeah, well, I guess that makes it clear who the villain is,” he’d retorted, his shock reigniting his glare. Ben looked like he might start laughing again for a second. But after a moment of contemplation, he’d simply cleared his throat and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. Finn forced himself not to notice how the position accentuated his absurd musculature.

“Fine, straight to the point then. I can admire a man who cuts right to the chase.” Ben scratched the stubble on the side of his face, seeming to consider something before he continued. “You actually think I have it in me to hurt her? To hurt Rey?” he’d asked, though it had sounded more accusatory than questioning. Finn narrowed his gaze. He wouldn’t be fooled by good looks and pretty eyes. Not when it came to Rey’s safety.

Ben seemed to take his non-answer as answer enough. “All right then. I’ll be the first to tell you: you’ve got it all wrong, Finn,” he growled, resuming his forward stance across the table. “That girl is the best damn thing on this piece of shit Earth, and I’ll butcher anyone who says otherwise.”

Finn’s jaw fell slack at the utter sincerity in his voice. Ben smiled contemptuously.

“That’s right. I care about her, too, douchebag. Get the fuck off your high horse for once and you might notice.”

A server suddenly appeared with two plates of cheeseburgers and French fries, causing Finn to jump, and Rey followed not far behind with identical glasses of Coke. She eyed the two men carefully for a moment before plopping the drinks down and scurrying away without a word.

“If you’re so damn good to her, why the hell does she run away from you all the time?” Finn groused, gesturing toward his friend’s fleeing form. Ben merely helped himself to some of Finn’s fries, and Finn _seethed_. The bastard just kept on smiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Dude, she’s not scared of _me_. She’s scared _for_ _you,”_ he’d replied mid-fry, eyebrows shooting into his hair. At Finn’s confused expression, Ben sighed, rolling his eyes with disdain. “She’s afraid I’ll kick your ass.”

He’d stated it so nonchalantly, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. Finn snorted, watching Ben dispense a shit-ton of ketchup onto his plate as if he hadn’t just threatened violence towards another person. The guy _reeked_ of easy confidence, and it completely robbed Finn of his appetite.

Or, at least, his _dietary_ appetite.

“I’m not going to though,” he’d added casually, biting into his giant burger. Finn rubbed his forehead, exhausted by the good-looking emotional rollercoaster seated across from him. It was damn difficult to hate someone who apparently cared for his best friend and was simultaneously the best looking Alpha in town.

“Why not?” Finn couldn’t help but ask, snatching up one of the few fries left on his plate. He’d frowned at this fact while Ben nursed his Coke, formulating his reply.

“Well, you’re a Beta for one,” he grinned, swiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. Finn followed the movement despite his best efforts, swallowing his French fry whole. “And I think she has more to worry about than I do in the jealousy department.”

Finn flushed beet red, more thankful than ever before for his dark complexion. Had he really been that _obvious?_ Ben seemed to sense his discomfort anyway, and when Finn fumbled his attempted reply, Ben’s grin grew downright _wolfish_. Finn did his best to pick his jaw up off the floor, clearing his throat and snapping his glare back into place.

“In your dreams, Solo,” he’d quipped, proud of the confident tone that not at all reflected his inner turmoil. Something he said must’ve worked; Ben barked a laugh as his fist connected with the tabletop, jarring their plates and silverware enough that Rey came rushing out from her hiding place in the kitchen. Her expression evolved from frightened to surprised in the span of ten seconds, and Ben beckoned for her to approach the table.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got some interesting friends,” Ben snorted, wrapping an affectionate arm around Rey’s waist. The two shared a smile that said everything and more….

Finn saw it then, in that moment.

He’d seen it as plainly as the road now stretched before him, even as he’s drifting through the chilly fog of his memory. He’d seen it as clearly as he now sees Rose riveted at his side.

“He loved her, Rose,” Finn mumbles to the bated-breath silence in the car. Something stings in his chest when he says it, but he knows what he saw. “He _really_ fucking loved her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAY IT ON ME PEOPLE
> 
> Art thou surprised? Confused? Tired of cliffhangers?
> 
> Yell at me here, then on Twitter! @aquill2thrill


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